


Secret Places Of The Soul

by Marblez



Series: Tomorrow Will Be Kinder [4]
Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins, The Hunger Games (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, Fix-It, Gen, Language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-20
Updated: 2017-10-13
Packaged: 2018-06-03 11:30:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 11
Words: 49,685
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6609049
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Marblez/pseuds/Marblez
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Persephone Waters had a future, a talent and a career. Everything was heading in the right direction until she was Reaped for the 72nd Hunger Games…</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

**DISCLAIMER:** I don’t own the Hunger Games but the OC’s are my creation.

**SUMMARY:** Persephone Waters had a future, a talent and a career. Everything was heading in the right direction until she was Reaped for the 72nd Hunger Games…

**A/N:** The title comes from a quote by Plato - “Music and rhythm find their way into the secret places of the soul.”

**WARNINGS:** Canon-Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, Language

 

**SECRET PLACES OF THE SOUL**

**CHAPTER ONE.**

 

_“Barre!”_

A scampering of feet accompanied the image of the fifteen girls aged between sixteen and eighteen as they hurried to take their assigned positions at the various barre’s mounted the mirrored walls of the _“Advanced Level Studio”_ in the renowned _“Academy of the Arts.”_

“I am _very_ disappointed to inform you that over half of you are still struggling to perform to the standard required of the _Advanced Level Class_ and so we shall be forced to spend the next two weeks focusing on the steps which you are _failing_ to perform correctly.”

Madame had always been a stickler for details, ever since Persephone had entered into the Academy at the age of six, but while she was demanding with the lower levels when it came to her advanced dancers she was a complete and utter nightmare. Every little detail had to be absolutely perfect each and every time they performed, be that in a closed rehearsal or during an actual performance. This was due, undoubtedly, to the fact that it was from the _Advanced Level Class_ that the Capitol would select dancers for the _Capitol Ballet._

“ _Grande Battement!_ Music, please!”

Their rehearsal pianist, Evangeline, was pushing eighty years old but you'd never know it from the way her gnarled fingers were still able to fly across the black and white keys.

Settling into the correct starting position, her left hand resting on the barre, Persephone prepared herself for what she knew would be a mind-numbingly repetitive morning.

“ _Front_ , two, three, four. _Side_ , two, three, four. _Back_ , two, three, four. _Change position!_ ”

Performing a fluid turn Persephone prepared herself to begin the exercise again but on the other leg, thankful that they were only performing two _grande battements_ in each required direction as it took two of Madame’s counts to execute each graceful elevation of the leg.

“ _Front_ , two, three, four. _Side_ , two, three, four. _Back_ , two, three, four. _Change position!_ ”

As with all dancers Persephone had one leg which was more _obedient_ than the other, turning out effortlessly, stretching further and in this particular instance reaching ever-so-slightly higher. It was something they all had to work hard to compensate for else Madame would come down on them like a tonne of bricks for being, as she called it, an _uneven mess._

Compared to the rest of the class Persephone was considered _petite_ as she had stopped growing when she was fourteen and stood at only 5’3” whilst they seemed to tower over her despite the tallest among them, her closest friend Dazzle, being only five inches taller than her at 5’8” and some of them were still growing. In the past this would have worked against them, the _Capitol Ballet_ insisting that all of the ballerinas they took on be between a certain height but as “ _different_ ” was “ _in vogue_ ” at the moment anyone had a chance.

“ _Front_ , two, three, four. _Side_ , two, three, four. _Back_ , two, three, four. _Change position!_ ”

She was also one of the few girls in the current _Advanced Level Class_ with naturally blonde hair, the fair strands having a slight natural curl to them which was easy to enhance with the use of hot curling tongs or foam curlers worn as her hair dried overnight. During rehearsal her hair, as the rules dictated, was braided into a low bun and covered in a turban made of white silk to keep it out of the way. This also helped to keep the sweat out of their eyes.

Each class within the Academy wore different coloured leotards and turbans to identify what level they were at and for some reason the _Advanced Level Class_ wore pure white leotards, either with thin straps, capped sleeves or long sleeves. They also had the option of wearing a white tulle wrap around practise skirt but most of them never bothered.

“ _Front_ , two, three, four. _Side_ , two, three, four. _Back_ , two, three, four. _Change position!_ ”

“At this rate we won't have time to change for the Reaping Ceremony,” Dazzle complained breathlessly from her position behind Persephone. “We’ll have to go dressed like this.”

“I'd forgotten that was today,” Persephone admitted, equally as breathlessly whilst moving her lips as little as possible so as not to draw Madame’s attention to them. “Not that it really matter what we wear anyway as the Careers always wear the most ridiculous things.”

Dazzle giggled.

It was true that the Careers always seemed to wear outfits which they considered to be the appealing to the Capitol sponsors when they Volunteered for the Games each year. No one would remember if the _Advanced Level Class_ attended the Reaping Ceremony in their rehearsal uniforms when the girl who took the stage was dressed like a peacock or the sun.

“ _Front_ , two, three, four. _Side_ , two, three, four. _Back_ , two, three, four. _Change position!_ ”

Persephone could be forgiven for allowing her mind to wander as they continued to repeat the same sequence until the bell finally rang to warn them that they needed to leave for the Reaping Ceremony, leaving them with barely enough time to change into their street shoes and pull on a pair of jogging bottoms over the top of their leotard and tights before grabbing their grey zip-up hoodies which had both the Academy's logo and their name printed on the back and hurrying out of the building, joining the flood of people making their way towards the Justice Building. None of them had had time to remove the turbans from their hair.

They joined the lines for registration, gritting their teeth as their fingers were pricked in order for them to provide the bloody thumb print and then soon enough they were entering the roped off areas where their various age groups were stood. Persephone, at seventeen years old, took her place in the largest of the seven groups towards the back of the square as they liked to put the youngest potential Tributes towards the front in District One.

Thankfully they didn't have long to wait before the Reaping Ceremony began.

**“Welcome!”**

Titus, the seemingly immortal man who hadn't aged in the fifteen years he'd been serving as District One’s escort, took to the stage wearing what was no doubt the current fashion in the Capitol. The white suit itself wasn’t too unusual, the cut a little overly large in places, but what made him look utterly ridiculous was the thick golden collar covering his entire neck and the fact that his hair had been clipped painfully short and dyed bright pink on top.

**“Happy Hunger Games and may the odds be ever in your favour,”** he spoke calmly and clearly into the microphone which stood in the centre of the stage. Behind him stood the Mayor, his wife and their Victors, all of them dressed in their finest clothes. **“Now, before we begin today’s ceremony we have a film brought to you all the way from the Capitol.”**

They broadcast the same film every single year but not a single person dared to look away, keeping their gaze fixed on the various screens which had been erected in the square.

**“Now, the time has come to select one courageous young man and woman for the honour of representing District One in this year’s Hunger Games,”** Titus announced once the film had reached its predictable conclusion, already heading over to the first bowl. His shoes clicked so loudly that they might as well have been ladies heels. **“As per usual, ladies first.”**

She couldn’t explain the state of nerves which suddenly overtook her body.

She’d never been nervous during a Reaping Ceremony before.

After all there was no real reason for her to be nervous, given how the Career’s always fought amongst themselves for the honour and the glory of competing in the Games.

And yet…

With a quick move of his fingers, his nails seemingly encrusted with pink gemstones, Titus selected one of the all-important slips of paper, holding it aloft as he made his way back to the microphone where he proceeded to open it slowly and dramatically, pausing for effect.

**“Persephone Waters.”**

Oh…

She could feel the eyes of her fellow dancers falling upon her where she stood, the other seventeen year old girls sagging with relief that their name hadn't been called out.

**“Persephone? Where are you?”**

Moving automatically she stepped out of the group, moving until she was in the gap which had been left between the boys and girls and by that time all eyes were upon her. She caught sight of herself on one of the screens and suddenly realised that this could work in her favour, bringing her to the attention of the people in charge of the _Capitol Ballet_ auditions. All she had to do was perform correctly until she was replaced by a Career and they would remember her as being a credit to her District when she appeared before them.

**“Come on up.”**

_“Don’t hang or droop your head,”_ she recalled the lesson she had been taught a long time ago on how to properly walk when in public, the voice of the long since retired instructor literally playing in her mind. _“You must act like you have the invisible string attached at the top of your head holding you up, just as you do when you dance, my little doves.”_

She'd always called them that, her _little doves_ , and the fond memory helped her to form the small smile she needed to produce. It wouldn't do to smile too much but she knew from years of studying herself in various mirrors that her “ _resting face_ ” could seem rather fierce.

_“Keep your eyes fixed on a point, and do not look around you,”_ the same voice played through her mind once more as she slowly approached the steps which would take her up onto the stage. _“Stay concentrated on where you are going, and look alert and at attention. Focus on something that gives you purpose, and it will show in your eyes.”_

Thanks to the rigorous training she had received her posture was perfect; her shoulders slightly back whilst her back remained perfectly straight, and she kept her strides rhythmic and even. Even though the temptation was to hold her hands in front of her stomach she kept her arms loose at her sides and made sure not to fiddle with the cuffs of her sleeves.

Soon she reached the bottom of the steps, smiling towards the Peacekeepers posted there as they moved out of her way, and moments later she took her place on the stage beside Titus who took a moment to look her up and down. She was pleased to note that his eyes shone with obvious approval as he took in her appearance, manner and bearing.

**“Do we have any Volunteers who would like to take Miss Waters place in the Games?”**

Her feet had automatically settled into third position as she waited for someone to step forwards and replace, her arms resting on top of her imaginary tutu which was a trick she'd learned when she'd just begun her training in order to keep her arms in the correct position.

As the silence stretched on, broken only by the quietest of murmurings, her smile began to slip and her gaze dropped from the building opposite the, to study the faces of the Careers.

Wait…

Were they…were they _smirking_?

Why weren't they pushing each other out of the way to Volunteer like they normally did?

**“…no one?”** Titus eventually murmured with a frown, as stunned by the unexpected turn of events as everyone else. District One always had a pair of Volunteers enter the Games. Persephone’s head snapped across to stare at him, silently begging him wait just a little longer to give them more time to... **“Well, then…let's move onto the boys, shall we?”**

She could feel all of the blood drain from her face, her mask slipping off to reveal the shock she was feeling as tears welled up in her eyes. Why hadn't anyone volunteered?

There were….there were literally dozens of Careers ready to take her place…

Why had none of them spoken up?

And then she heard it, a voice pitched just right so that she would heard what was said but it wouldn't be picked up by the microphone. The tone could only be described as malicious.

“I'm not Volunteering to same one of _them_. Think they're better than us, you know they do, but let's see how long one of those prissy little dancers manages to last inside the Arena.”

She could only blink in shock.

They hadn't Volunteered because of the animosity between the “ _Academy of the Arts_ ” and the “ _School of Excellence_ ” where the Careers were trained to become perfect little killers?

That was…that was…

**"Bronze Mattheson!”**

Titus’s clear voice snapped her attention away from the female Careers who were still smirking up at her and across to the young boy who was now stumbling towards the stage, the twelve year old looking understandably terrified given what had just happened to her.

By the time he was guided into place beside Titus his whole body was trembling and it took all of a second for her instincts to take over, her terrified expression quickly hidden behind a reassuring smile as she reached out and took the boys hand in her own, giving it a squeeze.

He blinked across at her thankfully before turning to face the assembled crowd.

Titus cleared his throat loudly into the microphone.

**“Do we have any Volunteers who would like to take Mr Mattheson's place in the Games?”**

For the longest moment it seemed as though history were about to repeat itself, that the bone chilling silence would continue and District One would have no Careers competing in the Games that year and poor Bronze let out a choked sob, obviously trying to be brave…

“I Volunteer as Tribute!”

It seemed as though everyone sagged in relief as the booming voice was heard from amidst the crowd of boys who instantly parted to allow the monstrous boy to step forwards.

Well, almost everyone, as the young woman on the stage was still fighting against the urge to cry even as she smiled across at Bronze before releasing his hand so that he could escape.

There was no escape for her…

**“Come on up, young man.”**

This was it.

This was her fate, it seemed, to become a Tribute in the Hunger Games if only because of the particularly cruel actions of the female Career candidates of her District who had taken what she had believed to be a friendly grudge between the two school significantly too far.

There was nothing she could do to change that now so she would have to do her best to perform as was required of her by her District, bringing them honour as she desperately attempted gain sponsors and tried to do enough to survive the following days and weeks.

**“And what is your name?”**

“Arcturus,” the boy all but growled his response to Titus’s question, the Escort obviously more than a little bit relieved to be back in familiar territory. “Arcturus Friar.”

**“Wonderful…”** Titus breathed into the microphone. **“Ladies and Gentlemen, your Tributes for the 72nd Annual Hunger Games – Persephone Waters and Arcturus Friar!”**

A polite smattering of applause filled the square as Titus encourage the two of them to shake hands for the camera, Persephone barely hiding a wince as Arcturus made a point of showing off his obvious strength by squeezing her hand so tightly her knuckles crunched.

**“Excellent! Excellent,”** Titus exclaimed cheerfully as they separated, both of them smiling automatically towards the crowd and the various cameras broadcasting the important event back to the Capitol. **“Happy Hunger Games and be the odds be ever in your favour.”**

A gentle hand took hold of her crook of her elbow and, before she could give it much more thought, Persephone was being led away from the horrified expressions on her friends faces and into the unfamiliar hallways and rooms of the Justice Building.

**~ * ~**  

**A/N** I've had this story planned for a while now but I wasn't intending to start it until my other ones were completed however whilst writing those I found I needed to use information included in this story as (stupidly, I'm realising in hindsight) I have set them all in the slightly altered universe I've created and so here we are. One thing I must say is **I am not now nor have I ever been a ballerina, professional or otherwise,** so please be kind and understanding as research can only go so far and I'm more than likely going to get a few things wrong. Comments  & Suggestions are more than welcome as always. X


	2. Chapter Two

**DISCLAIMER:** I don’t own the Hunger Games but the OC’s are my creation.

 **SUMMARY:** Persephone Waters had a future, a talent and a career. Everything was heading in the right direction until she was Reaped for the 72nd Hunger Games…

 **A/N:** The title comes from a quote by Plato - “Music and rhythm find their way into the secret places of the soul.”

 **WARNINGS:** Canon-Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, Language

 

**SECRET PLACES OF THE SOUL**

**CHAPTER TWO.**

 

As though he was determined to prove his lack of basic manners at every opportunity Arcturus pushed past her on their way from the car to the train, literally shouldering her out of the way so that he could board the glamorous vehicle first and had always helped himself to a plate of sweet treats by the time she entered the main compartment of the luxury train.

“Would you care for anything, my dear?” Titus enquired, frowning towards Arcturus as the boy dropped down into one of the chairs and put his feet up on the delicate looking coffee table with a loud thud. It was painfully obvious he’d stepped in something nasty on his way to the train. “Shoes. Off.”

It took Gloss slapping them out of the way in order to get Arcturus to obey the sharp command, huffing loudly as he did so even as their two Mentors shared a look. Persephone tried not to feel intimidated by the fact that she was in the same room as Gloss and Cashmere Peridotte, heroes of District One, favourites of the Capitol and legendary Victors each in their own right.

“Persephone?”

“Sorry,” she apologised, focusing on Titus once more as the Escort set about filling a little plate with brightly coloured fruit just as the train began to move. “I'm not particularly hungry, actually, although I wouldn't mind a cup of tea.” An attendant was waved over. “Breakfast tea. White. One sugar.”

Offering her a discreet bow the attendant hurried off to prepare her drink leaving her with no other choice but to take the seat beside Arcturus, tucking one foot behind the ankle demurely whilst placing hands and the shoes they held in her lap. As had been drilled into her time and time again she sat upright, her posture perfect so as not to appear inelegant.

Dazzle had brought her the shoes she was holding on to, her favourite pair of pointe shoes, when she'd visited her ever so briefly in the _Justice Building_. Her dear friend had sprinted all the way back to the “ _Academy of the Arts_ ” in order to fetch them for her, determined that they would make the “perfect” token for her and remind her of everything that she had to come back to.

Persephone hadn’t had the heart to point out that she probably wouldn't be coming back and had accepted the shoes with a sad smile and a tight hug.

Her parents had visited her as well as had been expected of them, empty handed and full of stilted conversation as they said goodbye to the daughter they barely knew having enrolled her in the “ _Academy of the Arts_ ” as a child.

The attendant returned with a delicate looking cup and saucer, presenting both to her, and she thanked the silent man politely before taking a sip. It was too hot still, the liquid stinging her tongue, but the blend of tea was divine and the amount of milk and sugar perfectly balanced to her tastes.

She let out a hum of appreciation.

“What's with the shoes?” Arcturus demanded, his mouth so full of cake that he actually sprayed crumbs into the air as he spoke. “They look ridiculous.”

“They're my pointe shoes,” she answered with a grimace, brushing a couple of crumbs off of her thigh. “My friend thought they'd make a good token.”

Titus visibly perked up once more as he heard her voice, realising that he hadn't been hearing things earlier and that her accent was indeed a delightful blend of both the Capitol accent and her own District accent. Arcturus on the other hand snorted mockingly whilst eating another cake.

Gloss and Cashmere shared a discreet look of surprise.

“You can't wear those in the Arena,” Arcturus snorted. “Idiot…”

“I do not intend to wear them inside the Arena,” she responded scathingly, shooting him a look of disbelief before taking another sip of her tea. It was just beginning to cool down. “They're far too valuable to ruin in such a way.”

“Too _valuable_?”

“Yes,” she responded to Arcturus’ snort of disbelief with another scathing look. She’d had enough of Career students mocking her over the years to put up with it now. “Oh, I’m sorry – do I need to simplify that for you? I know how words of more than two syllables can be a challenge for you Careers. _Valuable_ is another way of saying something’s precious or…”

Arcturus let out a shout of rage.

“I know what it means you stupid fucking bitch!”

“ _Language!_ ” Titus exclaimed, blatantly horrified by the behaviour he’d just witnessed. “You are here to represent your District, young man, and I must ask you to keep a civil tongue whilst you do so. I will not have you ruining the hard work I’ve put in over the years creating the image of District One.”

Arcturus huffed loudly before pushing himself up out of his seat, aiming a kick to her ankle which she only just managed to avoid as he moved to raid the buffet once more. Yet again his plate was filled entirely with sweet treats.

“What did you study in the _Academy of the Arts,_ girl?”

“Ballet,” she answered without hesitation, turning her attention the female Victor who had been the one to voice the question. She held up her pointe shoes, offering Cashmere an arched eyebrow along with a cheerful smirk. “Or did you think these were for tap dancing? Also I don’t really appreciate being called _‘girl’_ – my name is Persephone so please use it accordingly.”

“…you’re a _ballerina_?”

Gloss sounded almost horrified by this piece of knowledge they’d been given.

“Yes, I am a ballerina,” she answered simply, passing her now empty cup and saucer to the attendant who had stepped forward to collect it from her. “I’ve been in training since I was six and was preparing for my audition with the _Capitol Ballet_ before I was Reaped. Do you have a problem with that?”

Neither of them responded but she could see the exact moment that they wrote her off as a lost cause and focused their attention on the young man currently returning to his seat, all of his attention focused on not dropping any of the pastries and cakes he had managed to stack on his small plate. 

Holding back the of frustration that had begun to build up in her eyes, knowing that she needed to keep up her calm and collected façade in order to make the right kind of impression with the people that mattered, she pushed herself to her feet and made her way across to where Titus was stood by the buffet table nibbling on a long stick of celery.

Persephone _hated_ celery.

Tying the ribbons of her pointe shoes together so as to link them she hung them around her neck as she had countless times before, the familiar weight of the shoes bouncing against her almost completely flat chest as she came to a halt beside her District Escort.

“How long will it take us to reach to Capitol?” she enquired softly as she picked up a plate and began filling it with fruit and vegetables that she had no intention of eating, her stomach still clenching painfully in a way that made eating anything at all seem like the worst idea in the entire world. “I was just wondering if I had time to freshen up a little bit?”

“We won't be arriving in the Capitol until tomorrow morning,” Titus answered pleasantly, dipping the stick of celery in a little pot of sour cream on the table. Something else that Persephone wasn't overly fond of but could eat if there was nothing else. “Due to the fact that each of the Tribute Trains has a scheduled arrival time the closest District always end up taking a bit of a detour. This year we'll be going through District Four to begin with which is worth it for the spectacular views if nothing. Then we'll pass through District Five before making out way through District a Two and entering the Capitol via the southern approach.”

Persephone hummed thoughtfully in response.

“We're quite lucky with out arrival time this year,” Titus breezed on cheerfully. “Too early and all the fashionable people worth showing off for will still be abed, too late and they'll be getting ready for the Tribute Parade. They usually give those slots to the outer Districts.” 

 _Also known as the ones who are least likely to win,_ Persephone translated silently as she placed one final apple slice on her plate before stepping away. _Canon fodder…_

“The might I be excused for the time being?”

“It's so delightfully refreshing to have someone with manners representing District One,” Titus breathed in apparent delight. “The Careers are always good at putting on a show when the time calls for it but when the cameras aren't on them…well…take your fellow Tributes behaviour, for example. I'm sad to say that he is one of the better behaved ones I've seen.”

 _“Manners maketh man,”_ Persephone intoned softly. “Or woman, in my case.”

Titus positively beamed at her in response.

“Feel free to explore the train as much as you'd like, my dear,” he murmured cheerfully, actually turning his back on where Cashmere and Gloss were discussing weapons with Arcturus in vivid detail. “Should you get turned around or wish to be shown to a certain room just approach one of the attendants and they'll be more than happy to direct you.”

“Thank you.”

Moving away from the buffet table she approached one of the attendants stood silently on the far side of the long room, hands clasped behind their backs and eyes fixed on the floor.

“Could you show me to my room, please?”

It was only once she was alone, safe from prying eyes, that she allowed her mask of confidence and indifference slip away leaving behind the utterly terrified girl hidden beneath. Her tears, once they were allowed to fall, were completely uncontrollable and she was barely able to place the plate of untouched food and her pointe shoes on the dressing table before her legs gave way beneath her, sending her tumbling down onto the soft bed.

She wept until she could weep no more, at which point she went through the motions of stripping out of her clothes, taking a quick shower in the en suite compartment before slipping between the bedsheets as naked as the day she was born. Unfortunately her mind was too active to allow her to fall asleep quickly and so, hugging a pillow to her chest, she resigned herself for lying there until physical exhaustion overrode her fear of the future.

~ * ~

“Clothes. Off.”

The order, for that was the only way to describe the words which had been directed towards her, had come from the smallest of the three people she had been handed over to by her Mentors. She was the only one who hadn't had anything obviously done to her face, other than perhaps having her skin dyed an impossible pale colour which gave her the appearance of being a porcelain doll. Her hair was a mixture of blue shades and cut into a smart bob just a fraction longer than her ears with a perfectly straight fringe an inch above her barely there eyebrows. Tapping a finger to her lips the woman hummed thoughtfully.

“Well she's obviously taken care of herself,” she murmured as Persephone stripped away layer after layer of her clothes. She'd decided against dressing in the Capitol clothes provided when she'd woken up after her long sleep and had, instead, donned her rehearsal clothing once more. “Although we're going to have to do something about her figure…”

“ _What_ figure?”

It had been the male portion of the trio who had scoffed loudly, his gaze blatantly fixed on her almost flat chest as he pursed his lips in disapproval. His physical enhancements were the ones that she had been having trouble not staring at, his forehead covered in perfectly symmetrical and even rows of sharp metal studs which seemed to move as he frowned.

“Exactly my point,” the first woman responded as she stepped forwards to actually cup what little Persephone had in the way of cleavage. She couldn't help but gasp in shock. Yes, being naked in front of others was nothing new thanks to some of the quick costume changes she'd been expected to pull off during some of her showcases but no one had ever reached out and touched her before. “Check with Batiatus first but I want to go ahead and give her an enlargement now otherwise I'm afraid that she'll be completely overlooked.”

She could feel her eyes going impossibly wide as the young man disappeared quickly.

_An enlargement?!_

“River, could you get started on her hair?” the blue haired woman who was obviously the one in charge ordered the last member of the trio, an impossibly tall woman whose hair was the colour of candy floss and styled like…well…like one of the cheap ice-creams they sometimes managed to get hold of on their trips into town. Her face was almost completely hidden behind a beaded cage which hung from a thick black headband, the bottom of the flexible cage attached to an equally thick black collar around her neck. Her nose was abnormally flat, looking more like that of a reptile than that of a human being. “I asked for the colour to be pre-prepared to save time and there's a copy of the design for you to follow in turns of how much he wants you to get rid of on the sides. He's decided to keep the back.”

“Yes, Gala,” River murmured, reaching out and taking hold of Persephone's shoulders in order to guide her to the long metal table in the centre of the curtained off area. “Up you get, please, face up for the moment. Will you handle the body wash and scrub, Gala?”

Obediently lying on top of the cold metal table Persephone couldn't help but compare this experience to being prepared for one of her showcases, the biggest difference being that the people doing her hair and make-up then were her fellow students who listened to her when she explained what she wanted them to do. She had a feeling if she were to protest, something that Cashmere had ordered her not to do, these three would completely ignore her and simply get on with preparing her for her first official appearance in the Capitol.

They were pleased to realise that she “took care of herself properly” but Persephone didn't feel the need to explain that some of the costumes she'd worn recently left them all with no choice but to visit the salon on the ground floor of the academy building regularly to keep them free of “unnecessary and unflattering” body hair, as Madame had always put it. Apparently this wasn't something that Careers did, worried more about their lethal abilities than their body hair, so they were used to having to “tidy up” the Tributes in past years.

She nearly had a heart attack when she heard what were unmistakably a set of hair clippers start up by her head but was distracted for a moment by the return of the man with spikes protruding from his forehead. He carried with him a rather large metal tray upon which rested an alarming number of needles, some small whilst a few were terrifyingly large.

“Batiatus signed off on the enlargement once I explained what we were dealing with,” he announced emotionlessly as he placed the tray on the counter. “I've brought all five stages just in case they're needed but he hoped we wouldn't have to do more than a stage two.”

“Right,” Gala murmured. “You take over on her feet, Bane, and I'll get started with the enlargement. I don't know what she's done to her feet but they are utterly horrific.”

Bane, the male member of her prep-team, grimaced as he took over scrubbing the bottom of her feet which, admittedly, weren't the most pleasant thing to look at. All dancers but especially ballerinas ended up with…interesting…looking feet and hers were no exception. She'd seen worse however. Madame’s big toes had completely curled underneath the others and Dazzle, her dearest friend, had identical callouses on top of her toe knuckles.

She was almost distracted from what they were doing to her, lost in her thoughts for a moment, but her attention returned to the hands working on her body when the sharp point of a needle was inserted without warning into her right breast. The pain was instantaneous and intense, causing her to cry out and flinch away even as a second needle was inserted into her left breast, doubling the pain and increasingly her screams and struggles. Eventually, unable to continue working, they used thick straps to hold her down.

Tears escaped from beneath her tightly shut eyelids as the pain only seemed to increase as time wore on, her screams fading out to pitiful whimpers. When Cashmere had ordered her to accept whatever the prep-team did to her on their way over from the train station she had never, not once, imagined that they would put her through something like this.

“I think we might have to go to stage two,” Gala hummed thoughtfully, her words breaking through the haze of pain and causing her to cry out in protest. “Oh, hush, anyone would think you'd never suffered for your looks before now. Don't forget, _beauty is pain._ ”

Yes, beauty was pain but surely that applied to the pain of plucking your eyebrows or having a hot wax in your intimate areas. Not this, never anything as utterly horrific as this…

The pain brought on by the second set of injections, given as unsympathetically and as swiftly the first set, was more than enough to send her falling into a welcome darkness.

~ * ~

When she woke for the second time that day she didn't recognise herself, the three of them having pressed on with her “transformation” even after she'd fallen unconscious. 

Her hair was purple, a mixture of shades and tones, and the sides of her head had been clipped so short there was only a light stubble of purple hair left. The main portion of her hair was still the same length as before, thankfully, and hung oddly around her head and shoulders.

Her nails, both on her hands and feet, had been painted another shade of purple and her eyebrows, plucked and shaped into graceful arks, had also been dyed to match her hair.

But it was her body which caused tears to well up in her eyes as she stared at herself in the mirrored wall of the small room she'd woken up in. For the most part nothing had changed, she was still as petite and as lithe looking as before although whereas before a small amount of hair had remained in her intimate area it was now completely bare. But then there were her breasts. There was no sign that they weren't natural, the Capitol methods leaving behind no trace of alterations, but anyone who knew her would notice the difference immediately as it was…well…impossible to believe.

Her natural breasts, which had measured at barely a 32a the last time she'd been fitted for a costume, now hung painfully heavy in front of her, pulling at the muscles of her chest and shoulders.

An unfamiliar voice startled her as she turned so as to see her now ridiculous profile, the phrase “ _tits on a stick_ ” coming to the forefront of her mind as she studied her reflection.

“Much better, aren't they?”

Gasping she spun to see a handsome young man leaning against the side of the now open doorway, stroking his emerald green beard as he smirked across at her naked body.

“They ended up going up to a stage four to get them to look right in the end,” he informed her as he stepped inside the room, allowing the door to swing shut behind him. “Slightly bigger than I'd hoped but I agree they look spectacular and it's nothing a couple of alterations to your costume couldn't fix. It was designed with a c-cup in mind rather than the impressive d-cup you’re now sporting, my dear. You are definitely going to turn heads.”

_Yes, because I look absolutely ridiculous…_

“I'm Batiatus, your stylist for the Games,” he introduced himself as he began opening a series of boxes on a table she hadn't noticed before then, revealing the contents to be an impossible amount of make-up and all sorts or hair pins and grips. “Now let's sort out your hair and make-up and then I'll go and see if the alterations have been finished.”

He bade her to sit down on the metal table she'd woken up on, not the same one that she'd been _altered_ on but one very similar to it. He then set about styling what was left of her hair into a ridiculously large mohawk which stretched so far forwards she could see it without even looking up and so far backwards and downwards that it tickled between her shoulders.

The amount of hair spray he used to lock it in place made her gag.

She'd worn enough stage make-up in her time to know what to expect when he set about prepping her skin with moisturiser, foundation, concealer and a matte powder to lock it all in place. It shouldn't have been a surprise when he chose to contour her cheeks with a vivid purple colour to match her hair and yet it did, almost making her protest. Her eyelids were left almost bare, just a nude colour being applied, but the area between her eyelids and her eyebrows was completely filled in with a bright blue colour which was also run tightly underneath her eyes. A set of false eyelashes were glued in place before a thick coat of mascara was applied to both the real and the fake lashes. Lastly her lips were lined, filled in, and then covered with a red lipstick which made her lips tingle unpleasantly and plump up.

“You are truly stunning, my dear,” Batiatus congratulated her as he set about putting his things away. “Now, don't move. I'll be back in a moment with your costume and we'll get you dressed.”

A deep sigh escaped her once she was alone.

“I look ridiculous…” she grumbled. “I look like a painted bloody peacock!”

 _And talk about a homing beacon once I'm inside the Arena,_ she thought to herself bitterly as she reached up to pat carefully at the top of the vivid purple mohawk. Her prep-team had actually reassured her that the colour would last a month. _They'll see me coming for miles…_

Eventually the door was opened once more to re-admit her stylist who carried a pair of purple stiletto heels in one hand whilst the other harm carefully cradled a dress which, what a surprise, appeared to be a mixture of different shades of purple. However the first thing he handed her was a positively tiny thong made of a stretchy nude colour fabric which effectively allowed her to cover herself but still give the impression that she was naked.

As the dress was slipped on over her head she quickly realised that when it wasn't bunched together as it had been the lilac coloured fabric which made up the majority of the dress was in fact almost completely sheer. In fact only the various stars of different sizes which had been carefully embroidered in a deliberately random pattern over the various layers of fabric were opaque, the darker shades of purple standing out against the lilac and her milky white skin beneath so that it appeared she wore only a haze of lightly glittering stars.

The neckline was obscenely low, reaching past her belly button, and she immediately realised what the alterations had been when she saw the way the two thin bands of fabric holding the fabric together straining to cope with the protuberance of her breasts.

One of her nipples was thankfully hidden by a large star but the other one was clearly visible through the fabric and she could only hope that no one would be looking that closely.

Personally she thought that either the dress or the hair needed to change as together they looked simply ridiculous, too much…well…just too much but she decided against voicing her own opinion, instead she obediently stepped into the ridiculously high heels when she was instructed to and walked, hesitantly at first but quickly gaining confidence, across the room.

“Perfect!”

Persephone wondered if too much hair dye such as would no doubt be required to keep both his hair and his beard the brilliant emerald colour he was sporting had an effect on the brain, causing delusions or affecting a person’s vision because she was far from _perfect_.

Her prep-team and Titus were full of praise for both Batiatus and herself when she finally arrived in the cavernous room where the chariots awaited the twenty-four Tributes. Unsurprisingly, given how long her “transformation” had taken she was one of the last to arrive which unfortunately meant there were a lot of people watching her as she followed Titus and Batiatus across the room to where Arcturus, Gloss, Cashmere and an unfamiliar woman waited beds the chariot at the front of the long queue.

Someone even gasped.

Arcturus had also been dressed in the colour purple although his outfit was made of mostly leather which clung to his muscular body to the point where his trousers looked as though they'd been painted on. His chest had been left bare as had his lower back, both of which had been covered in a light dusting of glitter while the cut of the leather jacket flattering his shoulders. A series of thin metal chains hung across his chest from either side of the jacket.

His hair had been cropped similarly to hers, short on the sides whilst the top was still reasonably long. This had been dyed a dark purple colour and styled into an overly large quiff which hung down over his face. He even wore a toned down version of her make-up.

_Well, at least I'm not the only one who looks completely ridiculous…_

“You did not have a rack like that on the train,” Arcturus snorted loudly, actually reaching out to poke her right breast with the tip of his finger. Her mouth dropped open in shock and even Gloss and Cashmere looked startled by his behaviour. “Huh. I thought they'd be fake.”

Her reaction was instinctive and one she'd seen an older girl pull on a rude dancer once.

Reaching forwards she grabbed hold of his crotch through his leather trousers, making him jump as she squeezed briefly before releasing him with a disappointed sigh.

“Huh. I thought you'd be bigger.”

She made sure to sound as disappointed as possible before she turned her back on him and began looking about the room, taking in the outfits that the other Tributes had been dressed in.

Some, like her, looked utterly ridiculous due to the colours or the styles.

Some didn't even fit them properly.

A couple actually looked quite impressive, like the two from District Two who wore matching black armour and the two from District Nine who wore simple gold outfits, probably to represent the grain their District was synonymous with.

The ones she felt the most sorry for, however, were the two pathetically thin Tributes from District Twelve who made her own exposed state of dress seem positively decent given that they were both completely naked and pained with what appeared to be black coal dust.

Behind her Arcturus growled in response to her statement whilst someone snorted. If she didn't know better she'd have said it was Gloss but he'd made his disapproval of her clear so why would he be amused by her treatment of the Tribute they'd already chosen to support?

 **“Tributes,”** a booming voice echoed around the room. **“Mount up.”**

She guessed that meant it was time for her to climb on the rather unsafe looking chariot alongside the boy who definitely hated her enough to push her off of it whilst they were moving, the same boy she had just insulted and subsequently ignored. Fantastic.

“Work the crowd,” Cashmere instructed them, actually looking back and forth between the two of them as they took their places. “Smile. Wave. Blow kisses if that's what you feel like doing. This is your only chance to make a good first impression. You need them to love you.”

Advice given their Mentors, Stylist and Escort stepped back leaving them alone.

“I'm going to enjoy killing you, you know?” Arcturus growled just as the chariot lurched slightly, the horses beginning to move without any sort of prompting. “Nice and slowly.”

A chill of fear ran up and down her spine but she chose not to respond. Instead she focused on planting her feet a suitable distance apart, one slightly in front of the other, whilst her right hand moved to rake old of the hidden handle on the inside on the chariot. Her left hand was the hand which she would need to wave as she was on the left side of the chariot.

**“Ladies and Gentlemen! Please give a warm welcome to the Tributes of the 72nd Annual Hunger Games!”**

Arcturus sneered at her once more and, before she could realise his intentions, he reached out and tugged sharply on the thick strap of the dress closest to him. The force he used easily tore the stitches holding the two bands in place and, just as they exited the tunnel, she felt the fabric slide down her right arm, her breast popping out for everyone to see.

The audience gasped.

Fixing a confident smile onto her face she made a great show of giggling wildly, catching sight of herself on the huge banners along the edge of the edge of the _‘Avenue of the Tributes’_ just as she began fixing her dress. Knowing they'd be reading her lips she began apologising, not to Arcturus who continued to ignore her, but to the audience who began to cheer as she set about waving towards them, blowing kisses like Cashmere had suggested, anything to counter the unfavourable first impression Arcturus had cruelly created for her.

“Nice try,” she muttered as the chariot came to a halt below where President Snow himself could be seen watching the Tribute Parade. “But you'll have to try a bit harder than that to embarrass me. Oh, and thanks for making me the most memorable Tribute of the Parade.”

Silence fell as President Snow stepped forwards.

 **“Tributes, we welcome you,”** he spoke softly although the microphone amplified it so that it was almost too loud. She smiled broadly when she saw her face appear on one of the screens out of the corner of her eye. **“We salute your courage and your sacrifice. And we wish you a Happy Hunger Games and may the odds be ever in your favour.”**

It was the same speech he gave every year, pre-empting the exit of the Tribute Chariots.

Normally this would be when Persephone and her friends would return to whatever lesson they had been participating in before the mandatory viewing began but not this year. No, this year she continued to smile and wave towards the audience and the cameras until she was safely out of view inside another cavernous room where she allowed her smile to drop.

Arcturus hopped down before the chariot had even finished moving, laughing deeply as their Mentors hurried over to chastise him for what he had done to “tarnish the image of their District” but Persephone had her own response in mind. Stepping down gracefully once the chariot was stationary she made her way across to where he was still laughing loudly, very much aware of all the eyes that were upon her, and without hesitating drew her hand back and delivered a powerful slap to the side of his face which echoed wonderfully.

Silence fell as everyone stared at her in shock.

“I hope you weren't planning on making a good impression, Arcturus, because if there's one thing I know how to do its act for the crowds,” she announced loudly, glaring across at him as she felt her temper begin to bubble beneath the surface. “And I _promise_ you I will turn each and every supporter you would have had against you with nothing more than a smile and a couple of choice comments. You think I'm not a danger to you in these Games? Well, maybe I can't kill you but do you know what I can do? I can _ruin_ you. No sponsor is going to touch with a ten foot pole once I've finished tarnishing your reputation. You're _finished_.”

That said she turned away from him, swinging her hips as she strode away from him towards where Titus was stood with her stylist and prep-team. Everyone, not just her own team but other Mentors and Tributes, stared after he in complete and utter shock.

It wasn't the first time someone had threatened to ruin someone's chances in the Games.

It was, however, the first time any of them had believed them.

~ * ~ 

 **A/N** Not what I originally had planned for the end of this chapter but it works so I'm acing it in. I don't want Persephone to be too “ _perfect_.” She's going to have plenty of flaws like a normal human being which now apparently, thanks to my writing taking on a life of its own, includes a cracking temper, one which I'm looking forward to including in later chapters. And, yes, I hate Arcturus as just much as you do. Comments  & Suggestions welcome. X


	3. Chapter Three

**DISCLAIMER:** I don’t own the Hunger Games but the OC’s are my creation.

 **SUMMARY:** Persephone Waters had a future, a talent and a career. Everything was heading in the right direction until she was Reaped for the 72nd Hunger Games…

 **A/N:** The title comes from a quote by Plato - “Music and rhythm find their way into the secret places of the soul.”

 **WARNINGS:** Canon-Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, Language

 

**SECRET PLACES OF THE SOUL**

**CHAPTER THREE.**

 

It felt strange to be entering a training environment wearing something other than her usual rehearsal clothes but those had vanished during the night, the familiar articles of clothing replaced by the uncomfortable training uniform she now wore. There wasn't anything wrong with the outfit, per se, it just wasn't even close to what she was used to wearing.

Underneath the form fitting tank top she'd been given to wear, the cerulean colour creating an interesting look when paired with her lilac coloured hair, she wore the most reinforced bra she had ever seen. It had been a struggle to get it over her head and shoulders let alone to get her unpleasantly altered breasts secured within it but once she had finished wrestling the tight fabric into submission she had to admit they were pretty securely strapped down.

She wished they'd given them some sort of tights or leggings to wear, something that would become a second skin and move with their bodies and not against them. Instead she'd been forced to pull on a pair of black loose fitting cropped jogging bottoms, the fabric shifting against her smooth skin as she moved except for where the elastic held it tight about her hips and underneath her knees. It had even begun to bunch up above the elastic on the legs.

However the absolute worst thing about the outfit, the thing that still made her grimace even now after having been wearing the ensemble for over an hour, were the shoes. Again there was nothing actually wrong with them, light workout shoes in the same cerulean colour as her top, but they just weren't right. Light as they were they didn't even begin to compare to her pink satin split-sole ballet shoes or even her heavier, sturdier pointe shoes.

Perhaps she would be able to get away with taking them off and training in just her socks?

“Take a look around you.”

Reacting obediently Persephone glanced to her left, finding the young male Tribute from District Seven and then to her right, finding the female Tribute from District Four. She was in the front line of Tributes having gathered around the head trainer, Bilius, as soon as the instruction had been given rather than waiting for the others to move as most had done.

“In two weeks 23 of you will be dead,” Bilius announced calmly. “One of you will be alive.”

She frowned, partly in response to his blunt announcement and partly because they way her hair was sitting didn't feel at all right or comfortable. Reaching up she pulled at the elastic hair bands until they came loose, sending her purple curlers cascading around her shoulders until she began to pull and twist the long strands up into a neat little bun on the crown of her head, nearer the top as she had been taught when preparing her hair for dancing.

“I'm sorry, am I boring you?”

“No,” she answered, blinking up at Bilius as the Head Trainer frowned down at her from his title platform. “I am listening, I promise. My hair was just beginning to annoy me, that's all.”

Bilius harrumphed loudly.

“Which one of you that is depends on how well you pay attention over the next four days,” he announced, arching an eyebrow in her direction as she finished sorting out her hair. She merely smiled up at him in response, tugging at the bottom of her top to get rid of any creases. “Fighting between Tributes is strictly forbidden and will reflect badly on your final score. You'll have plenty of time for that in the Arena so save it for when I really counts.” 

Arcturus snarled, actually _snarled_ , from where he stood behind her to the right. She wasn't the only one to frown at him, most of the other Tributes trying to be more discreet about it than she was as she turned to frown at him. He was _definitely_ excited about getting to fight.

“There are four compulsory exercises which you will all be expected to complete to a suitably high level, the rest will be individual training,” Bilius continued, gesturing to the variety of training stations spread out throughout the large room. Men and women wearing a simplified version of his uniform were stood at each station, some dotted around seemingly randomly no doubt in order to keep an eye on the Tributes as they moved from station to station. “My advice is don't ignore the survival skills. Everybody wants to grab a sword but most of you will die from natural causes. Exposure can kill as easily as a knife.”

Persephone definitely did not want to just _grab a sword_ , thank you very much, although that stemmed mostly from the knowledge that she was more likely to injure herself than her opponent. If she must learn to fight with a weapon she would definitely be going something a little less…up close and personal, like archery or perhaps throwing knives.

“Happy Hunger Games,” Bilius finished up predictably, spreading his muscular arms wide as he grinned down at the gathered Tributes. “And may the odds be ever in your favour.”

Persephone was the only one to remain in place once he had finished speaking, her fellow competitors quickly scattering to the various training stations around the room. Predictably the five Careers gathered together briefly before heading off towards the weapons corner.

There was _no way_ she was going to begin any form of training without stretching first.

Ignoring the funny looks she was getting from Tributes, Trainers and Gamemakers alike, the latter reclining with flutes of champagne on their balcony overlooking the room, she pulled off her shoes and focused on regulating her breathing. Once she was satisfied that she was as calm and composed as she was going go get given her circumstances she began moving her body through the various warm up stretches that she had been taught over the years.

She began simply, standing straight before reaching up towards the ceiling as she went up onto her tiptoes before slowly folding her body in half so that she could press her face into her knees, her hands coming to rest flat on the floor. Her enlarged breasts got in the way, predictably, and the unfamiliar weight almost pulled off balance before she compensated.

Next she walked her hands forwards and allowed her body to drop into a press-up position which she held for a moment before allowing her legs to rest against the floor even as she straightened her arms, tilting her head upwards as she arched her back gracefully. Holding the position for a count of ten she then proceeded to reverse the process until she was standing perfectly straight once more, forcing her shoulders to relax as she breathed deeply.

Her next sequence of moves continued to work on stretching out her spine but added in some work on her arms, her body stretching and twisting into the familiar positions even as she allowed her eyes to flutter closed. Ignoring the looks she was receiving was not helping her to regulate her breathing in the slightest so blocking them out seemed like a good idea.

Once her upper body felt nice and loose she began working on her legs, beginning simply and working up to the point where she was pulling her legs up into various standing splits positions, stretching out her quads and hamstrings. She finished with some simple move,mets, swinging her legs back and forth slowly, then quickly, and holding them out in straight lines perpendicular to the floor. By now half of the looks she was receiving were of shock, confusion and amazement whilst the other half were of envy, jealousy and hatred.

The hatred came from the Careers, of course, who had noticed that the Gamemakers were focused solely on her simply performance rather than on where they were showing off.

Finished with her standing sequences she dropped gracefully to the floor and began to put her body through a mixture of seated exercises and ones where she was completely reclined, laying either on her front or her back depending on the purpose of the exercise. When she reached the point in her routine where she lay on her back and allowed her legs which had at that point been pointed up towards the ceiling fall open into an upside down box splits she distinctly heard someone choking, probably on a mouthful of champagne.

From there she finished off by rolling her body up into the normal position for box splits, holding it for a moment before twisting so that her right leg was stretched out in front and her left leg stretched out behind her. Her effortlessly impressive warm up routine was finally complete after she'd swapped so that her left leg was in front, smiling to herself as she climbed to her feet and brushed away whatever dirt or dust had gotten onto her clothes. 

Now she was ready to begin training.

Surveying the room she spotted and empty training station and made her way across to it, smiling at the older man standing on their side of a table covered with pieces of rope some of which had been turned into amazing displays of intricate knot work whilst others were relatively simple, some of which she recognised. Most of them were a mystery though.

“Hello,” she greeted the older man cheerfully. “Which knots do you think I should learn?”

He frowned at her for a moment before sighing and picking up a length of rope and handing it over to her, picking up one of his own before gesturing to one of the knots on the table.

“We'll start with the simplest ones and work our way up,” he announced somewhat gruffly. “That is an overhand knot and everyone in the room will have tied one at least once today.”

Yes, it was the knot she used at the begging of tying her shoelaces.

“The overhand knot is what's known as a _stopper knot_ and has two main uses,” he explained calmly once she had obediently demonstrated tying it. “To prevent the end of a rope from unravelling or as a basis from which other knots are creates such as a simple noose, an overhand loop, an anglers loop, a reef knot and, as you figured out, tying your shoelaces.”

They continued like this for nearly an hour, him demonstrating the knots, teaching her how to tie them and listing their various uses in terms that she mostly understood. She grasped knots like the figure-of-eight knot and the reef knot relatively quickly but it took her almost twenty minutes to get the hang of tying a bowline, not to mention the running bowlines and bowline on the bite. Some knots she simply couldn't remember, like the round-turn-and-two-half-hitches despite how easy the trainer made it look when he tied it again and again.

As she moved away from the station after having thanked him for his help she vowed to herself to visit this station for an hour every day. If she somehow managed to survive the bloodbath knowing what knots to use when constructing shelters or traps could be vital.

Continuing with that train of thought she made her way across to the training station dedicated to finding and creating shelter, arriving at the same time as the boy from District Twelve who blinked up at her for a long moment before focusing on the trainer. As she listened to the trainer explaining the different types of shelter they could make depending on the surrounding area and the supplies they had to hand Persephone absentmindedly began stretching her legs once more, grabbing each foot in turn and pulling her leg up behind her until the sole of her foot came to rest on her shoulder with her knee bent.

Deciding to finished up her morning with some more survival techniques she visited the fire-making station next and then, fifteen minutes before lunch was called, moved onto snare-setting. This was another station she quickly decided to visit more than once during her training as there was no guarantee that she'd be able to secure any of the supplies should she survive long enough to escape into the currently unknown terrain of the Arena.

“…how did you make your legs do that thing you did?”

The voice startled her, pulling her attention away from the salad she had helped herself to from the long buffet tables filled with everything and anything they could want. She found herself staring at the female Tribute from District Three who had dropped down to sit beside her at the communal dining table, her own plate of pastries and sweets in her hands.

“What _leg thing_?”

The younger girl used her hands to demonstrate what particular _leg thing_ she meant.

“The splits,” she named the calmly, spearing a piece of lettuce on her fork. “As a ballerina being able to do the splits is a rather early requirement and I began training myself in how to do them when I was seven. It takes a lot of hard work and determination, especially the box splits when your legs go out towards the side rather than to the front and back.”

“…why would you want to learn how to do that?”

“I was in training to become a professional ballerina,” she answered, noticing out of the corner of her eye that more than just the girl who had approached her were listening to the answers she was giving. “I even had an audition lined with the _Capitol Ballet_ before I was chosen to compete in the Hunger Games. The splits are just one of many things I've learnt.”

“Oh…” the girl mumbled, looking more than a little bit overawed by the information she'd been given. She couldn't have been any older than fourteen and was definitely one of the youngest Tributes entering the Arena that year. “I don't know what I want to be…I mean…what I wanted to be before it was Reaped. My parents work in _Technical Support_ but I don't like the idea of answering phones all day telling people how to fix their computers.”

“No, that doesn't sound much fun at all, does it?” Persephone murmured sympathetically, keeping her voice relatively light as she caught the moment the girl had obviously realised she didn't have to worry about her future any more. “They'd never expect a Victor to work in _Technical Support_ however so maybe you'll get to do something exciting if you win?”

“…you think I could win?”

Persephone felt her heart clench.

“I think everyone has a chance to win,” she responded softly, offering the younger girl a small smile in response to the girls hopeful look. Her blue eyes were so wide Persephone thought it must have hurt to look at her like that. “No, we can't all fight like the Careers can but we can get the Capitol and the sponsors to like us, to help us, to give us an even chance. Then it's simply a matter of the circumstances we find ourselves in and our determination.”

Despite the words tumbling out her mouth Persephone's mind was tormented with the crystal clear thought that the chances of this poor girl surviving the initial bloodbath at the Cornucopia were even slimmer than her own chances and they were pretty pathetic.

“…thank you.”

Following lunch she returned to snare-setting station to finish the session which she had had to abandon in order to attend lunch. It was difficult, the thought of killing innocent creatures not sitting at all well with her, but she knew that inside the Arena it could save her life and so she persevered. Her traps weren't good, not get, but they were “ _acceptable_.”

Returning to the centre of the room she smiled to herself as she found her abandoned shoes still sitting where she had left them. Thus far her lack of footwear hadn't been mentioned.

As she contemplated which station to try out next her body began moving of its own accord, her legs and arms settling into the familiar rocking sequence that made up a _balancé_ , a simple waltz she had performed a recital to years ago playing softly in the back of her mind.

“Attention, Tributes,” Bilius called out suddenly from where he was stood in front of a collection of platforms of different sizes and heights laid out like a course, interrupting her pleasant daze. “It is time to complete your first compulsory exercise – The Gauntlet.”

This time it was the Careers who hurried over, eager to be the first ones to run the course.

In the end it didn't matter who arrived first as they would be running it in order of District and, just as her luck would have it, the female Tributes of each District would go first.

“District One Female,” Bilius called out as several other trainers took their places around the course, each of them arms with padded staffs. His cold gaze found Persephone. “You're up.”

She studied the course for a moment before holding up one perfectly manicured finger.

“One second.”

Very much aware of the incredulous looks being shot her way she scurried over to her abandoned shoes and hurriedly pulled them back on, making sure the laces were done up properly before returning to the front of the line of Tributes. As uncomfortable and unfamiliar as the shoes were she definitely needed more grip than just her little white socks.

“Oh, I'm sorry, are you ready to go now, your highness?” Bilius gasped sarcastically when she returned to his side, causing several people to snigger loudly. She merely squared her shoulders. “You'll be scored on your overall performance, on whether or not you managed to complete the entire course without being hit. And trust me, they _will_ be trying their best to hit you. Should you be knocked from the course you will score zero for this exercise. You will also be scored on the time it takes to complete one complete run of the course.”

That all sounded deceptively simple to her.

“Understand all that, princess?”

Arching a sculpted eyebrow towards him she all but sighed her simperingly sweet response,

“Perfectly.”

“Oh, this is going to be good…” he muttered under his breath as the trainers scattered throughout the course chuckled deeply in anticipation. “On your marks. Get set. Go!”

Her body reacted automatically to his barked command, carrying her forewords and up onto the first low level of the obstacle course. As soon as she stepped onto the second level, much higher and significantly larger, one the trainers took a brutal swing for her ankles.

It was instinctive for her to react to the threat by launching herself up into the air, her legs performing a remarkably perfect _entrechat_ by rapidly crossing both in front and behind, before landing back down on the platform unharmed. She took advantage of the trainer’s stunned hesitation and hurriedly made her way across the next three platforms, her light feet barely touching the solid structures as she moved swiftly and without hesitation.

As the second trainer swung his staff towards her, the padded weapon aimed towards her stomach she left diagonally from the lower level she was on to the next ever so slightly higher one, her legs acting of their own accord once more as they turned her jump of desperation to not be hit into an elegant looking _brisé_ , her thighs coming together briefly before she landed securely and ducked down to avoid the next swing aimed at her head.

She cleared the staffs of the three trainers at the far end of the course guarding the section which forced the Tributes to perform a u-turn and head back in the direction they had just come from on a separate set of obstacles by performing a series of _pas de chat’s_ , launching herself higher into the air than she normally would have when performing the admittedly odd looking sideways jump. Her legs automatically lifted themselves one of the other, her leading leg clearing each staff belfry the following leg did the same. Admittedly it wasn't one of the most graceful jumps out there, the name literally meaning “ _step of the cat_ ”, but it was certainly effective in getting her round the turn and onto the final section of the course.

A second _entrechat_ saved her ankles once again and by that time she was laughing as she executed each jump, delighting in using her skills in such an unexpected manner. Bilius visibly snapped himself out of his own shocked state, snatching the padded staff from the last trainer standing between her and the end of the obstacle course and swung for her.

She couldn't resist.

Raising her arms into the stereotypical ballerina pose she proceeded to launch herself off of the high platform she had just reached, executing a less than perfect due to the circumstances but still remarkably impressive if she did say so herself _grand jeté_ , effectively performing the splits in midair as she sailed over the top of the padded staff. She landed as carefully as she could on the penultimate platform, bringing her arms down and out to help her keep her balance before quickly making her way across the final level and onto the floor.

Once across the obvious finish line on the floor she paused, composing herself in silence, before turning to face the Gamemakers on their observation deck and performing a deep balletic curtsey that even Madame, her harshest critic, would have been pleased with.

“Congratulations, Miss Waters,” a deep voice called out from the group of Gamemakers, breaking through the stunned silence effortlessly. “You've just set a new speed record for the Gauntlet as well as giving us a performance like none that we've ever seen before.”

Offering them another curtsey in response she couldn't help but smirk across at Arcturus where he stood seething at the front of the line, his hands clenched into fists at his side as he breathed deeply through his nose. His face and neck were an alarming shade of puce.

“Didn't I tell you that you'd messed with the wrong girl, Arcturus?” she asked him brightly as she moved to stand beside him, reminding him of her promise to ruin his chances however she could. “Good luck making an impression now. Try not to embarrass yourself _too_ much.”

Turning away from him before she could respond she walked along the line of Tributes, smiling at the wide eyed girl from District Three who silently offered her hand up for a high-five, grinning when Persephone obediently paused to gently slap their hands together.

“I've warmed them up for you,” she informed the small girl cheerfully. “Knock them dead.”

 _Not bad for the first day of training_ , she thought to herself as she calmly strode across to where the edible plants and insects station was located, smiling at the stunned trainer who took a long moment to respond with a small smile of her own. _Not bad at all…_

~ * ~

 **A/N** I know it's probably not possible to perform some of those jumps as I described them but take it as artistic licence for giving her a kick-ass moment in this story. Hope you enjoyed this latest instalment. Comments  & Suggestions are more than welcome. X


	4. Chapter Four

**DISCLAIMER:** I don’t own the Hunger Games but the OC’s are my creation.

 **SUMMARY:** Persephone Waters had a future, a talent and a career. Everything was heading in the right direction until she was Reaped for the 72nd Hunger Games…

 **A/N:** The title comes from a quote by Plato - “Music and rhythm find their way into the secret places of the soul.”

 **WARNINGS:** Canon-Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, Language

 

**SECRET PLACES OF THE SOUL**

**CHAPTER FOUR.**

As they had been instructed all of the Tributes had arrived fifteen minutes early and were now settling down in the waiting room outside the Training Centre. Persephone would be the first one going in for her private session and so had been instructed to take the seat beside the doors and, unfortunately, Arcturus had been instructed to sit beside her. On his other side sat Jayne of District Two and then Mace, her partner in sadistic violence. The rest of the Tributes had been arranged in girl/boy pairs in the numerical order of their Districts.

In spite of the fact that she had been all but ignored by her supposed Mentors for the past few days, all of their attention focused on Arcturus, she had dedicated herself to her training and knew exactly what she was going to demonstrate to the Gamemakers during her private session. As such she was feeling remarkably calm, unlike most of her fellow Tributes who were moving restlessly in their seats, bouncing their legs, biting their nails. 

Even the Careers seemed to be struggling with a case of last minute nerves, the conversation they had struck up quickly falling flat as they ran out of things to talk about.

During her second day of training Persephone had decided to focus on the numerous weapons available for them, figuring that should she survive the _bloodbath_ she would need to know how to handle at least one type of weapon if she wanted to be able defend herself.

She had been informed by the archery instructor that whilst she could use the bow at a speed which would definitely be in her favour her ability to aim left little to be desired. Yes, she'd hit the human shaped target with all of her twenty-five arrows but only four of them had struck inside a _kill zone_ and even then it had obviously been more luck than actual skill.

Still, should she be able to acquire a bow she wouldn't be _completely_ helpless.

Her attempts at learning how to wield fighting axes had been deemed “laughable” by the instructor after she'd nearly sliced open her stomach not once but four times while the instructor who specialised in the very popular choice of weapon known as a sword had branded her “utterly incompetent” within a matter of moments. This had particularly annoyed her as she'd done stage fighting with swords only the year before for an end of term performance, thus she already knew how to correctly wield the weapon, but apparently she lacked the strength to do anything but “tickle her opponents” according to the instructor.

Mercifully when it had come to throwing knives where she had once again had very little talent the instructor had shown her how to use a knife in “close quarter combat” and this was one of the skills she intended to show off during her private session. She had memorised the various _kill zones_ available to her when armed with a knife, had practiced on the dummies available as well as imaginary dummies in her mind, even on her own body.

Completing the compulsory ropes course on the second day had been a rather fun challenge, the unstable pyramid shaped ladder almost flipping over completely as she made her way up to the net which was strung out across the entire length of the ceiling. It was the net she had found the most fun, laughing to herself as she'd made her way across the net with all the nimble agility she'd learnt whilst at the Academy, keeping her steps light and quick until she had reached the other side with only a couple of stumbles along the way. Unable to resist finishing with a bit of showmanship Persephone had descended the hanging rope, only connected to the ceiling, using her arms only and keeping both her legs straight so that her body hung in a perfect ‘L’ position from her hardworking arms. As strong as her years of dance had made her she was grateful that they were only required to climb _down_ the rope course as climbing up it would have probably been just a fraction too much for her.

Arcturus had complained all evening to their Mentors that she was purposefully stealing the attention from him, to which she had simply chuckled, shrugged and returned to her book. 

She had warned him that he'd messed with the wrong girl, after all, so what did he expect?

The third and final day of training had begun with a compulsory task which saw each of the Tributes making their way across a strange hanging bars course where the object was to manoeuvre along two misshapen bars using two metal rings which they couldn't let go of.

Persephone had struggled at first until she'd figured out that swinging her body back and forth helped her to create the forwards momentum she needed to slide the metal rings along, particularly when she was travelling up one of the steep inclines in the bars. Some of the others, the Careers in particular, had completed the course in a quicker time but she had just been happy to have completed it at all unlike so many of the other Tributes.

Arcturus’s sneering voice dragged her out of her thoughts,

“You know you can't sleep with the Gamemakers for a higher score, right?”

Turning her head she brushed her hand along the complicated braid she had put into her hair that morning, flicking the tapered end over her shoulder as casually as she could before she offered him one of her best stage smiles, oozing confidence that she didn't really feel.

“Oh, I won't need to, I assure you,” she murmured clearly, aware of the fact that all of the other Tributes were listening in to their conversation. She refused to let his implications get to her. “But it might work well in your favour. After all, they probably won't even remember anything you've done so far, seeing as how you were so unremarkable compared to previous Careers. Maybe a good blowjob or two would cement your efforts in their mind?”

Arcturus spluttered loudly.

“Although that would only work if you were any good which I highly doubt,” she continued with a calm shrug just as the autonomous voice announced she was to go in for her private session. Rising from her seat she smooth her hands over her training clothes, even going so far as to adjust how her heavy breasts hung in her sports bra, and then turned away from him. Heading towards the door she paused at the last minute to call over her shoulder in the bitchiest voice she could muster, “I don't envy you having to follow me, Arcturus, because I haven't forgotten my promise. If you're lucky they might even remember your name…” 

Striding into the large room, putting on an air of confidence she really didn't feel, Persephone headed across the open space which had been created directly below the balcony upon which the Gamemakers were gathered, each of them with a flute of champagne. They had been slumped in their seats before she entered, chatting softly with one another, but by the time she came to a halt before them most of them had sat up properly and we're watching her in complete silence, obviously eager to see her perform.

“Good Morning,” she greeted them confidently, offering them a broad smile which most of them automatically returned before schooling their expression back to something more neutral. “Please excuse me while I stretch quickly as I have not yet had a chance to do so. Then I shall show you some of the skills I have learnt over the course of the last three days.”

She had in fact stretched before coming down for the private sessions but she wanted to display her flexibility in a more natural setting than simply showing it off to them and so she put herself through one of the quick pre-show warm ups she had learnt to do just before going on stage. It was the same routine of stretches she had used after the final compulsory session had been called at the end of the third day, requiring all of the Tributes to go one-on-one with a trainer in hand-to-hand combat. Knowing that her best chance was to “dance out of the way” of the attacks she had wanted to make sure her body was as loose as it could be and it had indeed worked in her favour, allowing her to survive the full sixty seconds required of each of them with being struck, kicked, pinned or symbolically killed.

Rising from the splits she had finished her stretches in she quickly made her way across to the start line of the gauntlet, waiting for the trainers to take their various positions before completing the course as quickly and dramatically as she had before. It was almost automatic for to leap into the air and perform one jump or another to keep from being hit and upon landing back on the ground it was all she could do not to offer up an elegant bow.

She had no way of knowing it at the time but she had just set a new record on the gauntlet, her time flashing in bold red digits on the little screams attached to each of their chairs.

Next she all but skipped across to the archery station, firing half a dozen arrows towards the target and managing to get all of them on the silhouettes torso although not grouped together and with only one of them striking a definite _kill zone_. Satisfied with her performance at that particularly station she carefully pulled one of the dummies into the centre of the open space, picked up as many of the knives as she could in her hands and then proceeded to give a perfectly composed lecture on where best to strike with a knife. She emphasised each _kill_ by thrusting one of the knives into the dummy with enough force to bury each of the blades so deep only the handles were visible when she stepped away.

“There is more I could show you but I'm afraid my time limit must be almost up,” she informed the group of men gazing down at her, several of them with a blatantly lustful expression which sent a shiver of fear and disgust down her spine. Ever the perfect performer she didn't let it show, however, and smiled up set them. “Therefore I would like to finish with something I learnt before I was given the opportunity to travel to the Capitol.”

If she'd been able to she would have worn her pointe shoes to this private training session but she'd been afraid of how she'd have performed on the gauntlet had she been wearing them. She'd practised in her heavy training shoes the night before after having decided that she wanted to finish her private session this way and it was in no way perfect, nor was it as elegant or graceful as she would have liked, but it wasn't a disaster and would therefore do.

Falling back on years of training her body moved into the correct position without any prompting from her conscious mind, her arms and legs settling for a moment before she launched entire body into a series of _pirouettes_ , pretending that she were performing for Madame and her friends. An impressed murmur filtered down from the balcony when she finally came to a halt, breathing deeply for a moment before offering the Gamemakers a charming smile and lowering her body into the most elegant curtsey she had ever given. 

“Thank you very much for your consideration,” she murmured as she returned to her normal stance, continuing to smile up at them. “I hope you enjoy the rest of your day.”

“Thank _you_ , my dear, for that impressive performance,” one of the Gamemakers surprised her by responding, his deep voice filled with what sounded like longing. “It has been some time since my fellow Gamemakers and I were treated to something new. Congratulations.”

Exiting the room via the second door as instructed by one of the trainers she found herself not in the waiting room but in the corridor leading to the two lifts which would take her back up to her floor of the Training Centre which was definitely a nice surprise. She wasn't sure how much longer she could keep up the act of being the confident bitch from District One and she certainly couldn't face another confrontation with Arcturus and the Careers. 

She found the apartment empty save for the countless Avoxes stationed around the various rooms and set about making herself a cup of tea and a sandwich in the little kitchenette, dismissing the Avox who moved to help her politely, and then settled down on the comfortable sofa with the book she had been reading since arriving in the Capitol.

It was a ‘Capitol Romance’ according to the cover but was in fact based in District Four and followed the lives of a talented young woman who volunteered for the Games, excelled and triumphed in the most ridiculously unbelievable manner and, currently, was in the process of falling in love with a man from the Capitol. Given the choice she'd have given up on the farcical work of fiction before now but as these were the only books available she was sticking it out to the end, or at least as far as she got before she had to enter the Arena.

Arcturus burst into the apartment less than half an hour later but she steadfastly ignored him and the way he was crowing triumphantly to Gloss and Cashmere who had followed him into the main room of the District One floor. According to him his private session couldn't have gone better but there was something about his confident demeanour that seemed more than a little bit forced, telling her that it hadn't gone quite as well as he was claiming. Perhaps her words had gotten to him and he'd messed up? Or perhaps the Gamemakers just hadn't been impressed with his predictable display after her unusual one?

The remainder of the day passed solitarily, Persephone ignoring them every bit as much as they ignored her, until finally it was time for the scores to be announced following a grand dinner which Persephone had more than happily feasted upon although she'd kept her selections reasonably healthy unlike Arcturus who had stuffed his face with cake yet again.

Sitting as far away from Arcturus as she could Persephone watched as Caesar Flickerman explained what the Tributes had been put through over the course of the last few days and what that had culminated into today, his excitable voice quickly grating on her nerves. And then finally it was time for the scores to be announced, the host growing serious in his seat.

"Ladies and Gentlemen,” he announced gravely from the large screen just as an image of Arcturus flexing his muscles appeared. “From District One, Arcturus, with a score of… _Ten_."

Her own picture, when it appeared as Arcturus was letting out a yell of triumph, was much more appropriate or so she thought. They'd posed for them the night before and she had made sure to offer the camera a soft smile, turning her head to show off her good side whilst she'd held her posture so as to keep her back straight, her shoulders back and her stomach in. Unintentionally this had meant that her enlarged breasts were rather prominent but that couldn't be helped. At least she hadn't gone for something as cringe-worthy as Arcturus had, as the other Careers no doubt had as an attempt to show off.

"From District One, Persephone, with a score of… _Seven_."

Seven.

That was a Career worthy score and was definitely enough to upset Arcturus, drawing him from his celebrations to glare across at her. She responded by offering him a smug smile.

It took her by surprise when Gloss and Cashmere shot her a look of surprised respect.

She wanted to laugh, to cry out “See? I'm not the pathetic cannon fodder you think me to be!” but she kept herself in check and instead focused on watching the remainder of the scores.

There weren't any big surprises this year; the Careers scored high, the younger ones scored low and everyone else scored somewhere in between, a couple even higher than her score. Arcturus spent the remainder of the broadcast announcing which ones he would be targeting first, which ones would be easy kills, which ones he'd save until last so as to “give the audience a good show.” It made her stomach churn and she wasted no time in excusing herself once the two predictably low scores for the boy and girl from District Twelve had been announced, hurrying back to her room where she curled up on her bed and wept.

 

~ * ~

 

 **A/N** Sorry it's been so long. I took part in a writing challenge which took up the entire month of July so I'm playing catch-up at the moment. Comments/Suggestions welcome. X

 


	5. Chapter Five

**DISCLAIMER:** I don’t own the Hunger Games but the OC’s are my creation.

 **SUMMARY:** Persephone Waters had a future, a talent and a career. Everything was heading in the right direction until she was Reaped for the 72nd Hunger Games…

 **A/N:** The title comes from a quote by Plato - “Music and rhythm find their way into the secret places of the soul.”

 **WARNINGS:** Canon-Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, Language

 

**SECRET PLACES OF THE SOUL  
**

**CHAPTER FIVE.**

 

Sitting in a tightly laced corset, she had discovered, brought about a wide variety of problems none the least of which was that her breasts were one wrong move away from popping free, the unpleasantly enlarged mound of flesh bulging at the top of the corset.

The other major problem was, to put it simply, that she couldn't breathe.

Because of this it wasn't all that difficult for her to ignore what Cashmere was wittering on about (how best to angle her body whilst sitting so as to show off her breasts to their “full effect”) during the second hour of her preparation session with the female Mentor. There had been no discussion about how she wanted to act, the Victor simply informing her that her only chance to be remembered was to tastefully give them a good view of her “assets.”

As such Persephone head already decided that she would be discounting any advice she was given in favour of simply behaving as much like herself as she would be able to in whatever dress they put into for the actual interview. Of course, she'd keep up the act of confidence which she had displayed both to the public and to her fellow Tributes, but she wasn't a tart.

They might have forced these “assets” upon her but that didn't mean she had to use them.

The final hour of her session was spent practicing her entrance and exit onto the stage whilst wearing the most ridiculous pair of shoes Persephone had ever seen, the skyscraper heels leaving her unbalanced and unsteady much to Cashmere’s genuine annoyance. 

That would be something else she'd change as soon as she got the chance, she decided as she waited for Gloss to join her. If she could get away with it she'd wear her pointe shoes for good luck or, if not, she would kick off her shoes in the wings and go on stage barefoot.

Anything was better than tottering around like a complete and utter idiot.

“We'll start by running through a mock interview, see how you do on your own, and then I'll sort out whatever needs to be fixed,” Gloss announced coldly as he entered the room, dropping down into Cashmere’s recently vacated seat without even looking across at her. When he did finally draw his gaze away from the tablet in his hands he didn't even attempt to conceal the way he studied her body, particular her breasts. “…I see what Cash meant…”

Her cheeks flushed with humiliation as he leered for a moment longer before activating the tablet, bringing up an audio recording function and setting it going before he address her,

“So, Persephone, how do you plan to win this year’s Hunger Games?”

After a moment’s thought she settled on an answer she'd heard a previous Tribute use,

“Through hard work and determination.”

Gloss grimaced.

“How do you think your training at the _Academy of the Arts_ back in District One will aid you inside the Arena? It's unusual to have a dancer representing such an impressive District. Do you think you'll be able to perform admirably under such circumstances? It must be diffi –”

“Perhaps if you'd let me get a word in you'd know exactly how I feel about the subject?” she interrupted him rudely, glaring across at him. “I am not ashamed of where I was trained, quite the opposite in fact, and I think you will all be pleasantly surprised by what I can do.”

“No.”

Her glare intensified as Gloss shook his head at her.

“Never contradict Caesar’s opinion,” he ordered her, dropping the tablet onto the coffee table so that he could pour himself an alcoholic drink. “You take whatever he gives you and you run with it. His views are the views of the Capitol and therefore they are set in stone, not to be challenged by the likes of you. If he suggests that your flouncing around will be a hindrance you agree with him, you smile at him and you promise to do your absolute best to work past the flaws left behind by your upbringing. Understood? Follow Caesar’s lead.”

“No.”

Gloss had the decency to look surprised by her response.

“I will not allow anyone to disrespect the education and training I have received. Not you. Not Caesar Flickerman. Not even President Snow himself. Ballet isn't easy, it's not just flouncing around the stage waving your arms about. It's _hard_ and it takes _years_ to perfect.”

Gloss let out a soft growl of annoyance.

“Now if this is the kind of advice you were planning to give me you can keep it,” she told him, kicking her shoes off do that when she rose to her feet she was perfectly steady. “I shall behave as I was taught to do so; as a well-mannered, polite young lady. Good day.”

Retreating to her bedroom, ignoring the indignant splutter her Mentor let out as she flounced out of the room, she reached behind her and began attacking the laces of the corset, desperate to free herself from it's painful confines. Growling softly when the laces refused to budge she strode over the dressing table, picking up the nail scissors sitting beside the rest of the manicure kit which she then used to cut away the laces she could reach whilst draping her arm over her shoulder or reaching upwards with her arm twisted.

Eventually enough of the laces had been severed that she was able to pull the dress from her body, dumping it down on the floor by the door on her way to her luxurious bathroom.

Dropping her knickers into the hamper inside the bathroom she turned on the shower, playing around with the settings until the scent of sweet peas filled the room and the water fell like a gentle waterfall. Satisfied that she would find the shower suitably relaxing she slipped under the spray and tried to forget about everything; about the oncoming fight to the death, about the interview she would be forced to participate in that evening, about Arcturus, about Gloss and Cashmere, about the changes they'd forced upon her body.

For the duration of her shower she tried not to think, instead choosing just to feel…

Sadly it couldn't last and all too soon she was forced to emerge, drying herself off with one of the ridiculously fluffy towels before pulling on the delicate dressing gown she had been provided with and exiting her room. Given that she was headed down to be prepared for her interview by her stylist there really wasn't any point in putting on clothes which he would just order her prep team to strip off of her as soon as she arrived in his “workshop.”

Gloss and Cashmere shared a look but didn't comment.

Arcturus, of course, spent the duration of their journey down to the preparation level attempting to remove her dressing gown. She knew the tricks needed to keep it in place, however, having spent many an hour backstage with jealous girls who would do anything to humiliate the girl who was given the role or piece they had wanted. By the time they emerged onto the basement level, already a hive of activity, his skin was covered in scratches and red marks from her nails and he'd been scolded by both Gloss and Cashmere.

“Do you have anything on under there?”

“No.”

Batiatus smiled approvingly.

“Good.”

Gesturing to the members of her prep team to get to work Persephone stood perfectly still as the dressing gown was removed and she was helped into her underwear as though she couldn't manage to put on a pair of knickers by her self. No bra was supplied, not even a strapless one, so she was left standing in just the barely there knickers for a moment while they prepared her dress, instructing her to raise her arms and slipping it over her head.

 _What a surprise,_ she thought to herself sarcastically for the brief moment her head was cocooned in the fabric of her dress as they tugged it downwards, _they went with purple._

It was a light purple, the lightest she'd ever seen, but still purple.

Mercifully the bodice wasn't laced anywhere near as tightly as the corset had been earlier, leaving her able to not only breathe but to move reasonably freely, and the multiple layers of the skirt ended just below her knees rather than dragging on the floor. The multiple layers of the skirt, the hidden ones made of a much stiffer fabric than the delicate top layer, created a mock-tutu effect which Persephone actually found herself quite liking the look of.

She'd been expecting something _much_ worse.

A thick ribbon of purple velvet was wrapped around her waist which, admittedly, looked absolutely tiny thanks to the style of the dress, and was tied in a large bow at the front.

“Batiatus?”

Her stylist, who hadn't been paying attention to them at all, turned at the call of Gala and looked her up and down as she stood in the centre of the room. Eventually he nodded, showing his approval before gesturing to her head with a wave of his hand and a grimace.

A stool was produced and, before she could do so herself, hands were pulling her skirt up so that when she was pushed down to sit on the stool it came into contact with only her knickers or her bare skin, the layers of fabric hanging unhindered around it and her legs.

Unlike before, when they had styled her hair as big as they could for the Tribute Parade, this time they took their time to tightly curl sections of her hair before styling them back into a mohawk, pinning them in place so as to reveal the cropped sides of her head. A couple of curls were left loose, pulled artfully across her forehead and sprayed with a foul smelling product which certainly did its job, locking them into place whilst a single curly hung down the back of her neck. Finally they pinned a diamond encrusted silver bow into the right side of the mohawk, near the front, and gave the entire style a healthy coating with the spray.

Mercifully when they moved onto her makeup it was significantly more toned down than before; a light foundation and power, lilac eyeshadow, winged black eyeliner and mascara, a slightly darker shade of lilac blusher, shimmer highlighting powder and deep purple lipstick.

“They're going to love you,” Gala informed her once they'd finished and she'd been helped back to her feet, a ridiculously tall pair of heels being produced for her. With their help she slipped them on and instantly decided that if she couldn't get back upstairs to change into her pointe shoes she'd be going on barefoot. “You look like you belong in the Capitol.”

Recognising the compliment for what it was she smiled politely as she responded,

“Thank you.”

Batiatus gave her a final once over before pronouncing her _fit to be seen_ and sending her on her way. She was delivered to Titus by her prep team, Batiatus following behind, who made a huge show of congratulating them for doing such a good job before admitting that they were ahead of schedule. It was eventually decided that she should return to the apartment so that as few people saw her outfit before the interview was filmed as possible and she was kore than happy to comply, kicking off the shoes they'd given her as soon as she could.

Hurrying into her room she picked up the pointe shoes which had been resting on her bedside table and moved to sit on the floor, her skirts spread out around her. Pulling out her toe pads from where they were stored inside the shoes she slipped them onto her feet before she set about going through the motions which had been ingrained into her brain; bending her knee, keeping her foot flat on the floor with her ankle at angle of 90° and wrapping the two ribbons around her ankle with just the right amount of tension. However when it came to securing the ribbons something made her go against the rules she had lived by which stated that the knot should fall on the outside of the ankle and instead carefully fashioned the ribbons into bows on the front of her ankles to match the one at her waist.

Flexing her feet a couple of times to check that everything felt alright she rose to her feet, already feeling much better than she had in the high heels, and smoothed out her dress.

“Persephone?” Titus’s voice echoed through the apartment. “Time to go.”

Walking in pointe shoes, hard as it was, was still easier than walking in the high heels she'd been given earlier and it took her no time at all to join her Escort. If he noticed her change of footwear he didn't comment, merely informing her that she and Arcturus would be the talk of the night, their outfits sure to surpass anything the other Tributes wore. Already she knew better than to argue with him and merely smiled politely as they travelled down to join Arcturus, Cashmere and Gloss in the limousine which would take them to the studio.

Unlike Arcturus who spent the entire journey going through suitable answers with their Mentors, confirming that he was definitely going for the “deadly killer” persona, Persephone remained completely silent and chose to gaze out of the window instead of studying her opponents outfit or even those of their stylish Mentors. Arcturus was in a suit, simple as that, and in the brief glance she'd spared him she hadn't noticed anything remarkable about it whilst both Cashmere and Gloss were covered in golden rhinestones.

All too soon they arrived and Persephone was here'd to the front of the other Tributes, taking her place at the front of the line with Arcturus directly behind her. She assumed this meant she was to go first, just like at the Reaping Ceremony, and began to mentally prepare herself for the performance she was about to give. Workers bustled about them, getting everything ready, whilst Caesar Flickerman’s voice could be heard warming up the crowd.

“Ok, Persephone, right?”

Turning towards the owner of the voice she found herself facing one of the workers, dressed entirely in black and with a headset curling over one of his ears. In his hands he clutched a handheld radio and a clipboard which appeared to hold a complicated schedule.

She nodded in response to his enquiry.

“You'll be leading the Tributes out onto the stage,” he explained, his voice clipped and formal. “Once you're through the curtain give the audience a smile, maybe a wave, then turn right and you'll find a semi-circle of stools. There's a line painted on the floor. Follow that line around the semi-circle and then once your at the furthest stool wait. Don't sit. You sit, all of the Tributes behind you will sit which we don't want. Caesar will tell you all to sit.”

As complicated as he'd made it sound the instructions were actually pretty simple.

“Make sense?”

“Perfectly.”

Smiling with obvious relief, obviously dreading going through it in more detail, he turned and called out for the other Tributes to follow Persephone when they were told to go.

Most of them didn't seem to care what they were supposed to do, merely nodding to show that they understood, but all five of the Careers glared at her like she'd been given an unfair advantage. Only little Aurora, the young girl from District Three, offer her a nervous smile.

Around them the lights began to dim, the audiences letting out various sounds of excitement even as Caesar attempted to calm them down before announcing that it was time to meet the Tributes. A wild cheer went up from the audience as a young woman moved to pull back one of the curtains, nodding for Persephone to step through the gap.

Settling her features into her best performance smile we strode out with confidence, offering the vast audience a delicate wave before turning and following the line on the floor as she'd been instructed to. Whereas before she'd been walking normally in her pointe shoes she now put in the extra effort to make it appear that she was gliding across the floor.

She didn't have long to wait once she'd reached her stool before Caesar was instructing them to take their seats but no sooner had she managed to get herself gracefully placed on the slightly too high for comfort stool did he call out for her to join him for her interview.

Hopping down she made her way across to him as elegantly as possible, her arms held in just the right place that they seemed to rest upon the air whist settled on top of her skirts.

 **“What an entrance, Persephone,”** he greeted her, holding the microns up to his mouth with one hand whilst the other gestured towards her. **“So elegant! Isn't she beautiful folks?”**

Persephone was honestly taken by surprise at just how passionately the entire audience agreed with his statement, roaring their approval as they applauded her without hesitation.

**“Now, Persephone, how have you found your stay in the Capitol so far?”**

**“Oh, it's an absolutely wonderful place, Caesar,”** she responded, keeping her voice controlled so that her response wouldn't sound even the slightest bit forced. **“Everyone's been so nice to me, well apart from some of my fellow Tributes but that's to be expected isn't it? My only regret is that I wasn't able to get out and see more of the Capitol. I would love to have gone out, taken in the sights, maybe done a little bit of cheeky shopping…”**

Just as she'd hoped they would the audience posted right into her hands, so to speak, loudly voicing their approval of her response, some of them even offering to take her shopping.

**“I'm sorry to hear some of your fellow Tributes have made things unpleasant for you.”**

**“It's the nature of the Hunger Games, isn't it?”** she responded, glad that Caesar had chosen to focus on that particular comment as it allowed her to sabotage Arcturus without making it obvious that that was what she was doing. **“It's natural for some of the Tributes to become a little…jealous of others when things don't go the way they want them to…”**

**“Oh?”**

**“You see I'm afraid I've…well…shown off a little bit during training without even realising I was doing it and Arcturus…sorry…some of the other Tributes didn't like the fact that I kept stealing their limelight,”** she went on to explain much to Caesar’s obvious delight, his mouth stretched wide into one of his trademark smiles, his teeth practically glowing. **“I'm a dancer and I realised that the only way for me to get through the training was to utilise the skills I'd been taught. This meant I was a little bit more…dramatic…than the others.”**

**"You're a dancer?"**

**"Yes, Caesar, I am,”** she confirmed, gesturing down to draw everyone's attention to her pointe shoes. Some of the audience must have recognised them for what they were, letting out excited squeals, whilst Caesar merely continued to smile indulgently at her, obviously enjoying the ease with which she'd settled into her interview. Sometimes getting the Tributes to talk could be like pulling teeth but she'd been trained for this. **“I've been training to become a Ballerina since I could walk and before I was given the honour of becoming a Tribute I was getting ready for the _Capitol Ballet_ auditions at the end of the summer.”**

 _Oh, yes,_ she thought to herself as the audience went wild once more, begging for her to dance for them. She'd managed to play that just right in order to get them on her side.

 **“Would you?”** Caesar enquired, gesturing to the stage in front of her. **“Dance for us?”**

 **“Of course, Caesar,”** she responded brightly. **“It would be my pleasure.”**

She opened with a few simple moves to get herself warmed up, not having expected that they'd act her to actually demonstrate which was admittedly a stupid move on her part. _Of course_ they'd want her to demonstrate, she was their puppet after all, their _entertainment_.

Eventually she felt warmed up enough to perform something a little bit more challenging and decided to perform an arabesque _penché_ as it didn't require too much movement, as such, but plenty of skill and most importantly it looked nice and impressive. Transitioning smoothly from one position to another she went from _1st arabesque_ to _2nd arabesque_ , held it for a moment before continuing on to _3rd arabesque_. Only then did she bring her “working leg” back down, transferring her weight onto it before raising what had previously been her “standing leg” up into the position of _arabesque croisée_. By now the audience were already going wild so when she turned her body smoothly using a _promenade en arabesque_ they literally began to roar with approval and when she then finished with an _arabesque penché_ they left to their feet, screaming her name as she held the position long enough for her skirts to bunch up around her waist before settling back down into an elegant finishing pose.

 **“Wow! I was not expecting that!”** Caesar laughed, stepping forwards to take her hand and in a move she'd never seen him perform lifted it to his lips so that he could press a kiss to her knuckles, some of his vivid lipstick transferring onto her skin. **“Wonderful, absolutely wonderful! Although it does unfortunately bring us to the end of our time so ladies and gentlemen, please show your appreciation for the delightful Persephone of District One!”**

Her body settled into a graceful curtsey all by itself, her smile never wavering as she murmured her thanks to Caesar before heading back towards her stool. Of course Arcturus was already on his feet and moving towards the front of the stage which meant that she was able to lean towards him with a smirk as they passed and murmur softly in his ear,

“Hope I've warmed them up enough for you, Arcturus.”

He grunted angrily at her, setting the tone for his own rather unimpressive interview.

His answers were predictable and while the audience cheered it was no where near at the level of response her interview had received. It was the same with the two from District Two although the audience perked up when it was Aurora’s turn, her mentor obviously having told her to play on the sweet and innocent image she had been given with her big blue eyes, pale skin and long blonde hair which had been loosely curled for the occasion. Her District partner seemed very smart, as was common with District Three, but not all that likeable and the two from District Four were well received but, once again, in a more restrained manner.

With each passing interview the applause grew fainter and fainter which happened every year unless there was someone impressive from one of the ouster Districts which there wasn't really this year. Oh, there were a couple who might put on a show but none that could be called real contenders, at least not in the eyes of the Capitol citizens and sponsors.

By the time the last interview was over, the boy from District Twelve barely saying a word and receiving only a polite round of applause from a quarter of the audience, Persephone was pretty sure that she wasn't the only one longing for the night to be over and done with.

They were ushered off of the stage in a reverse manner of how they were led on which meant that Persephone was the last Tribute to leave the stage, prompting her to turn to face the audience just before she reached the curtain in order to blow them all a kiss.

Just as she'd predicted the audience went wild once more as she ducked behind the curtain.

“You _fucking bitch_!” Arcturus screamed, fighting against the hold Gloss had on him, spittle flying towards her as his eyes blazed with anger. Persephone paused beside the curtain, very much away that they now had an audience of their fellow Tributes, the various Mentors as well as the District Escort’s, the Stylists and their Prep Teams as well as the countless Capitol workers dressed in black. “You did that on purpose to ruin my chances!”

Folding her arms across her chest she smirked across at him.

“ _You_ were the one who wanted to ruin my chances, Arcturus,” she reminded him, her voice sharper and colder than it ever had been before. He was terrifying, yes, and he'd probably be the one to kill her inside the Arena but at that particular moment _she_ was the one in control of the situation. “I'm sorry if you can't handle the tables being turned on you.”

Stepping past where he continued to struggle she paused, looking back over her shoulder.

“Anyway I'm sure _someone_ was impressed by you…hopefully…maybe…” she murmured, her tone of voice making it perfectly clear that her sympathetic words were completely fake. Someone in their audience giggled softly. “Well, let's just hope that they're very rich…”

And then, unable to resist the temptation of the long corridor stretching out before her following her scathingly accurate parting words, she danced her way towards the exit in the distance, performing a series of _pique turns_ as though she didn't have a care in the world.

~ * ~ 

 **A/N** I'm starting to feel sorry for her the more I write of her interactions/confrontations with Arcturus because I know what I have planned for inside the Arena and he is going to be pissed…anyway hope you're still enjoying this story. Comments  & Suggestions welcome. X


	6. Chapter Six

**DISCLAIMER:** I don’t own the Hunger Games but the OC’s are my creation.

 **SUMMARY:** Persephone Waters had a future, a talent and a career. Everything was heading in the right direction until she was Reaped for the 72nd Hunger Games…

 **A/N:** The title comes from a quote by Plato - “Music and rhythm find their way into the secret places of the soul.”

 **WARNINGS:** Canon-Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, Language

 

**SECRET PLACES OF THE SOUL**

**CHAPTER SIX.**

 

Standing in the glass tube which would all too soon deliver her into the Arena she attempted to distract herself from the panic spreading throughout her body by mentally criticising the outfit they had forced her to change into upon arriving at the launch room whilst also trying to regulate her breathing as she had been taught to to combat nerves.

Her underwear, a robust sports bra and panties set similar to the ones she'd worn to the training sessions, had been permitted to stay however her little white ankle socks had been replaced by thick black socks which she could pull up over her knees if she chose to do so.

It hadn't been until they'd handed her the trousers she was expected to wear that she remembered that District One’s colour scheme for inside the Arena was different shades of green although there had always been a fondness for olive and khaki. Why, she bemoaned silently, had they dyed her hair bright purple if they were going to force her to wear green?

As far as the style of the trousers went they weren't too bad; made of a denim like fabric and designed to hug her legs but not in such a way that they would impede her movement. They were also accessorised with a ridiculous amount of buckles, loops, clasps and pockets.

She was pretty certain that they'd purposely given her a t-shirt that was a couple of sizes too small, the khaki fabric stretching obscenely across her breasts and already prone to rising up to expose a strip of skin around the top of her trousers even though she'd barely moved. Mercifully the design of the shirt was such that the neckline was nice and high meaning they wouldn't be able to zoom their cameras in on her artificially impressive cleavage too much.

Over the top of the t-shirt she was given a reasonably loose fitting hooded sweatshirt to wear, the inside lined with a layer of soft brown fur, artificial no doubt, and with a zipper running up the front. Unlike the trousers it was completely plain, boasting only two pockets.

A pair of black ankle boots and a thick black belt completed her ensemble.

An automated voice announced that there were sixty seconds to go until “launch” and she automatically found herself running her fingers over the braid she had put into her hair as she always did when the final call before a performance was given, checking for stray bits of hair. They'd planned to put her hair into some ridiculous layered ponytail but had taken one looked at the elegant French braid she had created, the long tail trailing down her spine, and declared that it was stylish enough for District One and practical enough for the Arena.

It took her by surprise when the plate beneath her feet began to move, transporting up through the glass tube and out into complete and utter darkness, a darkness so true to its name that she couldn't see her hand when it was directly in front of her face. Someone whimpered loudly, obviously as frightened by the darkness as she found herself to be.

They couldn't mean for them to compete in the pitch black, could they?

How would they be able to watch them?

Suddenly Persephone found herself illuminated by a spot light positioned directly over the top of her head and she couldn't help but flinch, shielding her eyes until they readjusted.

Upon reopening she noticed that each of the Tributes was being illuminated one by one, in order of their District of course, and found that Aurora of District Three was on the pedestal to her right. After a lengthy wait it was finally revealed the Tribute positioned to her left was the boy from District Ten, Ulrik, who at eighteen was the older Tribute in this years Games.

With the light provided by the twenty-four spotlights it was now possible to ascertain that they had been delivered up into some sort of artificial cavern with multiple tunnels entrances dotted around it's edge, leading away from the Cornucopia which stood proudly in the centre of the almost perfectly circular space. It appeared that the Cornucopia had been created at the same time as the cavern, giving it the appearance of emerging from the uneven floor which was strewn not only with supplies but piles of rocks and little potholes.

As per usual the official countdown was displayed in the air above the Cornucopia, the large numbers rapidly counting down through the teens already. Aurora whimpered loudly, the noise echoing through the cavern as though she'd screamed it instead, and Persephone found herself suddenly determined to follow a course of action which would no doubt baffle if not completely horrify her Mentors, her District Escort and probably some of her Capitol Sponsors; she was going to do everything in her power to keep the kind-hearted girl who had been the only one to befriend her since arrived in the Capitol alive as long as possible.

She smirked, amused by the thoughts of their reactions.

No, she was definitely not a Career...

Her heart pounded wildly in her chest as the countdown relentlessly approached it's conclusion, so badly that her ribs hurt, and her throat closing up making it difficult for her to breath when finally the countdown finished and the 72nd Hunger Games officially began.

As always the majority of the Tributes had decided to risk running towards the Cornucopia, hoping to survive the bloodbath and emerge with the supplies they'd need to survive although as ever some turned and began hurrying towards whichever tunnel was closest to their pedestal. Persephone darted to the side, reaching out to snag hold of Aurora’s hand before the thirteen year old could get very far and pulled her along with her as she grabbed hold of the insignificant bag of supplies closest to her before turning and leading the shell-shocked Tribute into the closest tunnel which had, mercifully, been directly behind them.

As with the large cavern the only light provided were from spotlights overhead which were few and far between, making their journey along the narrow, winding tunnel a challenge.

Eventually they emerged from the tunnel into another cavern, this one appearing to be more rectangular. She could see three tunnels leading out of it on the far side but between them and those tunnels was a floor unlike any she had ever seen, a mixture of sharp inclines of seemingly smooth rock leading down and down to the base of the almost vertical sections of pitted, uneven rock which climbed almost up to the ceiling of the cavern. It was completely uneven and unpredictable, no clear path through from any direction but it was the only option they had open to them unless they wanted to go back to the Cornucopia.

Sliding her arms through the straps of the small backpack she tightened them, pulling on the sharply until the backpack was pressed snuggled against her back. Only then did she make her way to the nearest incline, moving carefully to sit with her legs draped over the edge.

“I'll go first,” she announced, preparing to slide herself over the edge. “That was I can figure out the best path for us to take and, well, catch you at the bottom of this giant slide…”

“...why are you helping me?”

“Because I wanted to.”

Offering the trembling young girl a blinding smile she pushed herself forwards until her bottom slipped over the edge and then she was sliding down the surprisingly smooth surface of the rock, using her feet to slow her descent as best she could which keeping her hands safety out of harms way. Within a matter of seconds the bottom was in sight and she prepared herself for whatever pain her landing would bring and was therefore pleasantly surprise to find that the angle of decent eased off to slow her down meaning that it was only her legs, acting as the final breaking method, that ached following her successful stop.

“Phew!”

Getting to her feet she brushed off her bottom, relieved that the sturdy fabric of her trousers had protected her from harm, and called up for Aurora to follow her down, the younger girl showing more pluck than most people would probably give her credit for when she didn't hesitate to push herself over the edge and let gravity take control of her body.

Persephone made sure to catch her when she reached the bottom.

“That wasn't too bad, was it?” she asked brightly, helping the younger girl brush off the back of her trousers before looking up at the vertical section they now needed to climb. Because of the positioning of the four spotlights used to illuminate the cavern the bottom section was perfectly illuminated but the top section was in shadow which would make it all the more difficult to climb, not mention that the very top was almost in pitch black what with how close it was to the ceiling. “Sadly I have a horrible feeling that was the easiest bit…”

Aurora sighed deeply.

“I'll go first again,” Persephone announced, moving to the base of the section and reaching up to find suitable handholds. “But perhaps this time you should follow a little bit closer.”

“Ok.”

Placing her foot on a protruding section of rock she began to scale wall as quickly as she dared, doing her very best not to look past Aurora to the ground whenever she looked down to check on the younger girls progress. Onwards they climbed, both of them panting from the exertion, and Persephone was well into the shadowed section where she was forced to rely on her sense of touch more than her sight when she heard someone approaching.

“…sure I saw her go this way…”

“…her and that little one from District Three…”

“…stupid bitch…”

Arcturus.

“Hurry!” she hissed down at Aurora, taking more risks in her haste to get to the top of the column where they could hide in the darkness. “It's the Careers! We must get out of sight!”

Finally reaching the top she pulled herself up, spinning around almost at once and lying down flat on her belly so as best to steady herself when she reached down to assist Aurora in scaling the last section of the wall. She had just pulled the younger girl up, forcing her to lie down beside her whilst covering her mouth with her hand, when the Careers arrived.

“Think they climbed it?”

Arcturus scoffed loudly,

“Nah. She'd be too worried about breaking a nail. They must've doubled back.”

“Maybe they went left when the tunnel split?”

Persephone listened, barely daring to breath, as the Careers discussed what she and Aurora may or may not have done before finally making their way back out of the cavern, none of them wanting to traverse the uneven terrain unless they had no other choice. Only when it had been completely silent for almost a minute did she relax, uncovering Aurora’s mouth.

“Sorry.”

“It's ok…” the younger girl mumbled. “I didn't even notice that tunnel split…”

“Neither did I,” Persephone admitted, moving up onto her hands and knees and crawling across to the unknown side of the column they had hidden upon. Another spotlight reviewed that the column was shaped into three giant steps on this side leading to another incline although this one appeared to be shallower than the first one. However after that there was another small bit to climb over which lead to what she could only assume was another deep incline judging by the fact that she couldn't see the bottom of it which led to another tall climb. Thankfully after that was the flat area where the tunnels awaited them. “I wish I could say the worst is behind us but that bit up ahead looks pretty nasty as well…”

“Well, no one ever said that surviving the Hunger Games was meant to be easy,” Aurora sighed, moving to kneel beside her. Persephone chuckled. “Did you count the canons?”

“I didn't even hear the canons,” Persephone admitted as she carefully lowered herself down to the next step down. “Probably should have so that we know how many we're up against.”

“I think there was about six but I was focusing on not tripping over in the tunnel,” Aurora murmured, following close behind Persephone. “And then there were a couple more when we were climbing. If I had to guess I'd say that we're already down by about a dozen…”

“Not particularly unusual for the first day…”

It didn't take them long to make it down to the shallow incline, sliding down together this time, and then they were faced by a completely sheer vertical section slightly taller than Persephone. Had she been on her own she would have struggled but with Aurora it was surprisingly easy to scale, the younger girl willingly acting as a step for her to use in exchange for Persephone reaching down once she was over the top and pulling her up.

Upon closer inspection it was clear that the final incline was significantly steeper than the first although it didn't seem to go quite as deep. Persephone also had a horrible suspicion that this one wouldn't ease off towards the end either so they'd need to be very careful.

“Well,” she sighed to herself, getting into position. “Here goes nothing…”

Pushing herself over the edge she plummeted at an alarming rate, significantly quicker than the previous incline, and had almost no time to brace herself for the moment she reached the bottom. Her boots came into contact with the vertical face of the final obstacle between them and the tunnels with a loud thud which stopped her dead, a painful pulse travelling up the bones of her legs following the sudden pressure but thankfully nothing seemed broken.

Apart from her legs, her ankles in particular, the only other part of her which had been hurt in any way by the journey down was her bottom, the descent causing an unpleasant amount of friction thanks to the fabric of her trousers. She could only hope she hadn't been burnt…

Climbing to her feet she automatically moved to straighten her rumpled clothing before gesturing for Aurora, already in place at the top of the incline, to join her at the bottom.

Watching the younger girl sliding down towards her she moved herself into a suitable position to help soften Aurora’s landing, wrapping her arms around the smaller tributes waist at just the right moment to effectively put on the brakes, allowing her to land gently.

“Thanks.”

“No problem,” Persephone murmured, checking the straps of the rucksack she carried before looking up at the last obstacle which they needed to traverse. It wasn't any taller than the previous climb they'd made, in fact it actually seemed to be quite a bit shorter, and the lighting was in fact significantly better but unfortunately there were significantly fewer obvious places for them to put their hands and feet. “This could get a little bit interesting…”

Scanning the rock face before her she finally found the only obvious starting point and while she'd have no trouble getting her foot up high enough to utilise the tiny ledge she doubted that Aurora, who was so much shorter than she was, would be able to reach it without help.

“I think you're going to have to go first this time,” Persephone informed the younger girl who bit her lip, trembling with nerves even as she nodded in agreement. Taking up a similar position to the one Aurora had adopted to help her out earlier she gave the younger girl enough out a boost to get her started on the climb. “Can you reach that rock over there?”

“I think so…”

From her position below the younger girl Persephone helped as best she could, offering advice about where she needed to place her hands and feet even as she followed her, utilising some alternative handholds which had been too far apart for the small girl to use.

“Persephone?”

“Yeah, I see it…”

They were almost at the top when they reached a point which was almost completely smooth but for two obvious tiny ledges which were _definitely_ too high for Aurora to reach.

“Ok, hold still for a minute,” Persephone instructed her. “Let me see what I can do...”

It wasn't easy and it required a lot of repositioning but eventually she found a way for her to basically turn herself into a step for the younger girl use, her arms stretched out further than was comfortable, one leg at a a somewhat alarming angle whilst one was bent at the knee. Once in place she braced herself and nodded for Aurora to step onto her bent leg, grunting at the painful pressure even though it was only brief as the younger girl was then able to reach the ledge which had been out of reach and was able to complete the climb.

Unfortunately as soon as she began to move her leg, the one which had been turned into a step, locked up with a horrific case of cramp which left her gasping in pain, clutching desperate to the rock face as her body shuddered uncontrollably. Aurora’s head and shoulders appeared above her, the younger girl leaning over the edge as she called out,

“Persephone? Are you alright?”

“J-Just a-a-a nasty c-case of cramp…”

Under normal circumstances she would have begun massaging the affected muscle to ease the pain but given how her body had ended up when the cramp had struck there was no way she could let go of the rock face with even one hand or she'd risk plummeting to the ground far below her. All she could was ride it out, blinking back tears of genuine agony.

Why did cramp always have to hurt so much?

Finally the pain began to subside and she carefully shook out her affected leg a couple of times before looking up towards her destination and returned to her careful ascent. It was a huge relief to her when she was finally able to pull herself over the top edge, Aurora helping her as best she could, and then the two girls lay on their backs for a moment to recover.

“Thank you for helping me,” Aurora murmured, running her fingers through her completely loose hair, the golden curls spread around her head like a halo. “You didn't have to do that.”

“No,” Persephone agreed softly. “But I wanted to. We should probably get moving; we need to find some place safe to hide for the night whilst the Careers go on their traditional hunt.”

Climbing first to her knees, then up to her feet Persephone stood beside the smaller girl and surveyed the three tunnels available to them, two side by side whilst the other stood alone.

“I think that one might lead back to the Cornucopia,” Aurora announced softly, pointing towards the solitary tunnel. “It's on the same side of the cavern as the one we came out of.”

Persephone nodded, agreeing with her deduction, and moved over to stand in front of the remaining two tunnels which appeared to lead away from the Cornucopia. Stepping into the first she found it to be completely pitch black and hurriedly backed up, moving to stand in the second which, whilst certainly dark than she'd like, wasn't quite as visibly challenging.

“I think this is our best option for now,” she announced, lowering the volume of her voice as it echoed through the tunnel alarmingly. “Come on. Let's see what we find down this one.”

Persephone nodded, agreeing with her deduction, and moved over to stand in front of the remaining two tunnels which appeared to lead away from the Cornucopia. Stepping into the first she found it to be completely pitch black and hurriedly backed up, moving to stand in the second which, whilst certainly darker than she'd like, wasn't quite as visibly challenging.

“I think this is our best option for now,” she announced, lowering the volume of her voice as it echoed through the tunnel alarmingly. “Come on. Let's see what we find down this one.”

As they made their way slowly along the dimly lit tunnel Persephone felt a trembling hand slip into her own and gave it a comforting squeeze, her thumb brushing back and forth across the younger girl’s knuckles. No words passed between them, not even when they became aware of the growing sound of running water which, given the fact that that the Arena appeared to be located deep underground, was more than a little bit concerning.

Eventually they emerged into a cavern, almost as big as the one which had held the Cornucopia, and discovered that the source of the running water they'd heard was none other than a waterfall. An actual _waterfall_ which appeared to be feeding an enormous river which cut through most of the caverns floor leaving only a reasonably triangular ledge high above the raging water where the tunnels, of which there were apparently two, were located and a narrow ledge around the edge which appeared to lead to the waterfall itself.

Unlike the tunnel there was almost an over-abundance of light inside the large cavern.

“Huh…”

“Where do you suppose the water comes from?” Aurora wondered softly, frowning up at the top of the waterfall which was located at the point where the wall of the cavern met the ceiling. It wasn't a trickle of water, either; more like a raging torrent pouring down into the river below, churning up the water into a white froth. “Do you reckon it's safe to drink?”

Personally Persephone was more concerned about where the water was going. Powered by the force created by the waterfall the water appeared to be flooding out of the cavern through a long flat looking tunnel located towards the bottom of the caverns wall. If either of them ended up in that water and were sucked into that tunnel they'd be dead in minutes.

“Persephone?” Aurora called out, frowning. “Do you reckon it's safe to drink?”

“Only one way to find out...” she murmured in response, shrugging off the straps of the backpack and handing the small object over to the younger girl. “Stay here, ok?”

Aurora nodded.

Making her way along the narrow ledge which would lead her to the waterfall without taking her across the entire river like the ledge on the other side would have done she ever so slowly edge her way along the slippery rocks, her hands gripping hold of the cavern wall.

Reaching the edge of the waterfall she held on with one hand whilst holding the other hand out to catch some of the water, grunting in surprise as the force of the water. In the blink of an eye the palm of her hand was flooded with crystal clear water which she then proceeded to bring up to her lips before it all leaked away, slurping it down with only a moments hesitation; it was very unlikely that the water was poisonous as the pay wanted them to live long enough to fight to the death. In the history of the Games she'd only heard of one occasion where the Arena itself had been poisonous and that had been a Quarter Quell.

The cool water sliding down her throat felt heavenly.

“It tastes fine,” she called out to Aurora who let out a deep sigh of relief which transformed into a fearful cry when Persephone lost her balance for a split second, flailing slightly and automatically reaching through the waterfall to grab hold of the rocks behind it to steady herself…only they felt like they were at a different angle to the wall. “I'm fine. I think…”

Trailing off she edged her body further along the narrow ledge, grimacing as the cold water was suddenly pounding down upon her body until suddenly she emerged into an open space; _there was a cave behind the waterfall!_ It was small, only just big enough to hold both of them but, judging by Aurora’s alarmed cry, completely hidden from the outside world.

“Perfect…”

Retracing her steps she offered the panicked tribute a beaming smile and beckoned her over, watching her hesitant progress until she was close enough for her to reach out and take the backpack from her. After quickly pulling the straps up on to her shoulders she took hold of Aurora’s hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze when she felt how badly she was trembling, and then proceeded to carefully lead the younger girl through the waterfall, holding on tight to help her fight the water pressure, and into the hiding place she'd found.

“Oh!”

“I think we should be safe enough here for the night,” Persephone announced, climbing into the hidden cave which was covered in a layer of moss because of the dampness in the air, the walls literally dripping from the spray being created by the waterfall. Aurora followed, eyes blown wide. “Then we can come up with a suitable plan of action in the morning.”

“It's perfect…”

It wasn't, not really, as the dampness would be a problem if they stayed too long but for now, for a safe hiding place for the night it was the best option they were going to find.

“How about we find out what we've been carrying around with us now that we're safe?”

Aurora nodded in agreement, settling into a comfortable looking position on a moss covered rock as Persephone proceeded to open up the back and upend its contents onto the ground.

“Seriously?” she grumbled, picking up the torch and clicking it on, shining the beam of light towards the back of their hiding place. Aurora herself reached forwards to pick up the coil of rope, pulling it up into her lap with a sigh. “Guess we should have opened the bag earlier…”

A torch would have made navigating the tunnels easier and the rope would have definitely come in handy whilst tackling the previous cavern. She just hadn't felt safe enough at the time to stop and go through the backpack, only doing so now because they were hidden.

“Never mind…”

Along with the torch and the coil of rope they had managed to acquire a reasonably large blanket, two knives no longer than the palm of her hand and a small paper bag filled with…

“Beignets!”

“…I beg your pardon?”

Aurora flushed, embarrassed by her joyous outburst.

“They're from home…District Three…my mum used to make them for our breakfasts…”

From this Persephone surmised that the small square shaped lumps of what appeared to be white bread must be District Three’s answer to brioche, the signature bread of District One.

“How many... _beignets_ …” she paused, waiting for Aurora to nod in confirmation of her pronunciation of the word, before continuing with her enquiry. “…are there in the bag?”

Aurora’s eyes darted back and forth as she counted the paper bags contents.

“A dozen,” she eventually answered. “Oh, no, sorry, there's thirteen. I missed one.”

“So a baker’s dozen, then,” Persephone couldn't help but shoot her a bright smile. “We should be able to make those last us a couple of days at least, despite their size, and we've got water. By then the Careers will no doubt have eliminated some more of the competition and we can look into getting ourselves something more useful in regards to weaponry...”

“So much for coming up with a plan in the morning…”

“That's _not_ a plan,” Persephone countered, beginning to return their supplies to the bag although she kept the blanket out. Before putting their food away she removed two of the beignets, passing one to Aurora. “That's a rough outline. Planning requires specific details and significantly more information about the layout of the Arena than we have at present.”

“…makes sense…”

They ate their beignets, taking their time so as to trick their stomachs into thinking that the small offerings were in fact a large meal, and washed them down with handfuls of water.

“What now?”

“Now we need to get out of our damp things so that we don't catch a chill as they dry,” Persephone responded, trying to remember everything they'd been taught during the survival classes. “If we lay them over the rocks at the back of the cave we can huddle together under the blanket until they've finished drying. Hopefully it won't take too long.”

“But…” Aurora mumbled, blushing furiously. “What about the cameras?”

“I don't know about you but I'd rather have all of Panem see me in my bra and knickers, ugly things that they are, than catch a chill and die of hypothermia or pneumonia or something like that,” she responded calmly, standing as best she could and stripping off her fur lined jacket. Of her clothes it had taken the brunt of the water and therefore needed the most drying out. Her t-shirt, on the other hand, was damp with sweat. “I think I might rinse this out as well or it'll start to get a little bit ripe. Want me to do yours at the same time, Rory?”

“ _Rory_?”

“Sorry, but Aurora is almost as much of a mouthful as Persephone,” she chuckled, pulling her t-shirt over her head as she made her way back to the waterfall. “You can call me Percy if you want, that's what everyone but Madame calls me back at the Academy. It's easier.”

“ _Percy_ and _Rory_?” Aurora giggled, unzipping her own jacket. “You've turn us into boys.”

Raising a perfectly sculpted eyebrow Persephone looked pointedly at her barely contained breasts, the fabric of her bra visibly struggling and creating a noticeable amount of cleavage.

“I don't think there's much chance of us being mistaken for boys, Rory…”

Rinsing out their t-shirts quickly and efficiently the two girls stripped out of their boots and laid their trousers alongside the other items of clothing to dry and huddled together underneath the blanket in their matching bras, knickers and long socks. It was absurd but both of them couldn't help but giggle at the image they presented and Persephone couldn't help but wonder how her Mentors were reacting to her actions thus far, whether or not her decision to help Aurora had helped or hindered her sponsorship deals. Not that she cared.

An indeterminate amount of time later the entire cavern was suddenly plunged into darkness, making Aurora cry out in fear as Persephone fumbled to open the bag and retrieve the torch. It was almost worse with the torch on than off, the beam of light making the darkness seem even more o inputs than it had before but it seemed to calm Aurora.

Seemingly from nowhere the _‘Horn of Plenty’_ began to play, the familiar music starting out loud and then quietening as the all too familiar voice of Claudius Templesmith filled the air, 

**“Attention! Attention! I shall now read the names of those Tributes who have fallen today! Remus Ashton – District Three. Nadya Wainwright – District Five. Warren Kingston – District Five. Jaidra Reef – District Six. Wade Marshall – District Seven. Hyacinth Stone – District Eight. Dafyd Aguilar – District Eight. Raoul Fields – District Nine. Ulrik Nunez – District Ten. Grace Ayala – District Eleven. Jocelyn Salinas – District Twelve. Rowan Weiss – District Twelve. Happy Hunger Games! And may the odds be ever in your favour!”**

Silence fell following the end of the announcement for a long moment.

“That’s half of us gone already…”

And it was only the first day…

~ * ~ 

 **A/N** I’m so glad that I got “carried away” when planning this story and had my list of tributes, how and when they die and a map of my arena already prepared for when I started writing this chapter. Hope you enjoyed it. Comments & Suggestions welcome. X


	7. Chapter Seven

**DISCLAIMER:** I don’t own the Hunger Games but the OC’s are my creation.

 **SUMMARY:** Persephone Waters had a future, a talent and a career. Everything was heading in the right direction until she was Reaped for the 72nd Hunger Games…

 **A/N:** The title comes from a quote by Plato - “Music and rhythm find their way into the secret places of the soul.”

 **WARNINGS:** Canon-Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, Language

 

**SECRET PLACES OF THE SOUL**

**CHAPTER SEVEN.**

 

“Oh!” Persephone gasped as the cavern was suddenly flooded with light, her eyes literally throbbing even after she'd clenched them shut once more. That was _bright_. “What the…?”

“I think that means it's morning,” Aurora whimpered from where she lay with her hands pressed over her eyes. “It's probably not any brighter than it was yesterday but because we've been in the dark so long our eyes have become adjusted to the darkness. If you open your eyes behind your hand and then gradually move it away that should help them adjust.”

They had been plunged into darkness moments after they'd pulled on their almost dry clothing, causing both of them to cry out in shock, and they'd been grateful of the tort he that had been part of the pack they'd managed to grab from the Cornucopia. With nothing else to do they'd snuggled together underneath the blanket, keeping a knife close to each of their hands just in case, turned the torch off and shared tales of “home” until falling asleep.

“Thanks.”

It had surprised Persephone how quickly she'd fallen asleep the night before, given the perilous situation they were currently in, but there had been something soothing about the constant sound of running water created by the waterfall. She'd only woken up once and that had been because Aurora had stolen almost all of the blanket in her sleep, wrapping it around herself like a cocoon. The younger girl had barely even stirred when she'd stolen some back for herself, merely rolling over to press herself against Persephone's side.

“Did you sleep well?” she enquired politely as she did as the younger girl had suggested, allowing her eyes to adjust slowly to the brightness of the cavern. “You seemed to, to me.”

“…I stole the blanket, didn't I?”

Persephone chuckled, nodding.

“I'm sorry,” Aurora sighed deeply. “I forgot to warn you that I do that sometimes…”

“It's not a problem,” Persephone responded, pushing herself up into a seated position and stretching her arms above her head to ease the stiffness in her shoulders. “It was…cute...”

Aurora rolled her eyes fondly, getting to her feet and moving over to the waterfall. Carefully she cupped her hands together to collect some of the cold water and brought it up to her lips, sipping it as carefully as she could but still dribbling some down her front. This action was repeated half-a-dozen times until her thirst was satisfied at which point she picked up the bag of bread and moved to sit beside Persephone once more so they could eat together. 

They had just sharing out a portion of the small loaves of bread between them when the all too familiar sound of a canon firing echoed throughout the cavern and their hiding place.

“Another Tribute gone,” Aurora murmured regretfully. “I wonder who it was…”

“I suppose we'll find out this evening,” Persephone responded, smiling comfortingly at the smaller girl beside her. “Perhaps we'll get lucky and it'll have been one of the Careers...”

Her stomach clenched painfully, although it wasn't in response to the death which had obviously just occurred somewhere in the Arena; she was sickened by the way these Games were changing her in that she was actually hoping that a Career, most of whom were her own age if not a year or so younger, had been the one to be killed. She was sickened that she had instinctively used such a horrific and...cold...thought as a way to comfort Aurora.

“Perhaps…” Aurora sighed sadly. “…do you think we can get away with staying in the cave?”

Sometimes the Gamemakers allowed Tributes to hide their way through the Games, only forcing them out for the finale, but other times they forced them out whenever they could.

It all depended on how popular they were, she supposed.

“I don't know,” she answered honestly, glancing around the cave to make sure that nothing had changed overnight. Everything looked the same but, having seen some of the tricks the Gamemakers had pulled in previous Games, that didn't necessarily mean anything. “One thing I do know is that before we even contemplate trying to outlast the other Tributes by hiding out here we need to gather some more supplies, food mostly but also weapons.”

“How?”

Persephone sighed.

“The Career Pack traditionally make the Cornucopia their base camp,” she reasoned softly, mostly to herself as she recalled the advice she had heard Cashmere and Gloss giving Arcturus. “And when they go out… _hunting_ …they'll leave behind one, maybe two Tributes to guard the supplies. Not always Careers, either, as they sometimes use other Tributes to do the grunt work until…well…until they're no longer useful at which point they get…yes…”

Aurora gulped.

“What I meant is that the best time to attempt anything regarding their supplies it when the Pack is out hunting,” she continued on swiftly, gazing at the falling water thoughtfully. “It'll be easier to sneak past one or two Tributes than to attempt to get past the whole Pack.”

“I suppose so…” Aurora sighed, biting her lower lip nervously. “I just…”

“So here's the plan,” Persephone interrupted her. “You'll stay here to guard what we have already, including our hiding spot as I doubt the other Tributes have been anywhere near as fortunate as us, whilst I go and raid the Cornucopia for some of the things we need. Ok?”

“…you want to go to the Cornucopia _on your own_?”

Aurora sounded understandably horrified.

"Not really,” Persephone chuckled softly, reaching out to tuck a stray lock of blonde hair behind the girl’s ear. It really was a beautiful colour, so naturally light. “I don't particularly _want_ to go straight all but we do need the supplies and, well, I think I'll be able to move faster on my own. No offence, I just mean that if you're with me I'll be worrying about you.”

“None taken,” Aurora sighed. “I understand. I just…I just don't _like_ it…”

Persephone smiled sadly.

No, she didn't particularly _like_ he plan either but unfortunately it was the most logical solution to their problem. Aurora could guard their cave, staying as safe as anyone could really be inside of Arena, and she could move quickly and quietly without worrying about the younger girl. She hoped it wouldn't come down to a fight, that she would be able to get to the supplies without bring noticed at all, but she'd take a knife with her just in case… 

Not that she'd be able to do much with it if it _did_ come down to a fight.

“I think…I think I can use the rope to rig up a sort of alarm at the entrance of the cavern…” Aurora murmured thoughtfully, brushing the crumbs off of her clothes before reaching out to pick up the coil of rope. “It might not work, but…well…anything’s worth a try, isn't it?”

Persephone couldn't stop herself from beaming at the younger girl.

“That sounds like an _excellent_ idea,” she murmured, completely genuine in her praise of the younger girl’s idea. She hadn't even considered it. “And you're absolutely right; even if it doesn't work it's worth a try. Especially if…especially if the worst happens and I…well…yes…”

If she didn't come back from raiding the Cornucopia, that's what she was trying and failing to say; if she was captured and killed Aurora would survive longer on her own if she had some sort of an alarm system on the cavern. She might even survive to the bitter end…

Aurora’s expression fell.

“Yes, I…I suppose so…”

"Obviously that's just the _worst-case-scenario_ ,” Persephone interjected quickly, overcome with a need to reassure the distressed girl. She didn't point out that statistically it was also, unfortunately, the most likely scenario. Caesar and Claudius were probably comparing the odds of her plan succeeding as she spoke. “And I promise to do everything I can to keep it as just that, the _worst-case-scenario_ , and not in any way, shape or form a reality. Ok? Rory?”

After a long moment of nothing but silence the younger Tribute nodded.

Cupping Aurora’s cheek with her hand ever so briefly Persephone offered her a small smile before reaching out to grab her boots from where they'd sat all night, grunting as they seemed to her to be even heavier than they had been before. What she wouldn't give for a pair of lightweight trainers or rehearsal slippers, anything but the heavy, clumpy boots she had been outfitted with. Keeping her footsteps quiet was definitely going to be a challenge…

“I'll be back as quickly as I can,” she reassured the smaller girl as she tucked her knife into her right boot so that both her hands would be free whilst she exited their concealed hiding place. “See what you can do about that alarm. I'll probably trip it when I come back, if it does work, but don't just assume it's me if it goes off. Wait for me to call out for you, ok?”

“Ok.”

Smoothing her hands over her hair, still braided almost as tightly as it had been when she'd entered the Arena the day before, she blew a kiss towards Aurora as she would have done one of her friends back home and began making her way out of the cave. If she hadn't already been wide awake following the lights coming on then the freezing water pounding down on her as she made her way along the narrow ledge as quickly as she could would have done the trick, her entire body tingling unpleasantly from a case of pins and needles.

Once safely past the worst of the short journey she quickened her pace, moving to stand near the entrance to the tunnel they had used to enter this particular cavern. Taking a quick moment she wiped the droplets of water from her face, particularly around her eyes, and squeezed it from her braided hair and jacket. Mercifully her trousers hadn't soaked up too much water and her boots, annoyingly heavy as they were, were completely waterproof.

Satisfied that she'd done all she could about the water which, admittedly, was a rather unfortunate side-effect of their hiding place she retrieved the knife from her boot and, holding it defensively in her right hand as she had been shown to by the instructor, as she slowly began making her way along the dimly lit tunnel which eventually took her back to the cavern with the obstacle course for a floor which they has traversed the day before.

Moving across to the tunnel which they had assumed would lead back towards the Cornucopia due to its position on the same cavern wall as the one they had entered the rectangular cavern by she hesitated for a second before gritting her teeth and moving down it as slowly as she possibly could, treating every step as something delicate and dangerous.

Soon the end of the tunnel came into sight, illuminated by the bright lights which had once shone down on the pedestals holding the Tributes. The pedestals were still there, of course, but they stood empty now. The Cornucopia, however, was overflowing with every kind of supply she could possibly imagine…and currently occupied by all five of the Career Tributes.

“…not good…”

There was no way, _no way_ , she was going to attempt to get past the entire Career Pack at _the same time_. One Career on their own she could have managed. Two would have been a challenge but she genuinely believed she could have gotten past both of them undetected.

…but all five of them?

Arcturus, with his sword and his personal grudge against her?

Jayne, with her deadly knives and attitude problem?

Mace, with his admittedly rather predictable mace and matching attitude problem?

Colm, with his deadly golden trident and determination to be the new Finnick Odair?

Zoya, with her deadly spear and sparkling metal net perfect for trapping Tributes in?

Nope.

Trying to get past all five of them would be tantamount to committing suicide.

A deep sigh echoed rather alarmingly throughout the tunnel as she resigned herself to failure, deciding that she would have to try again later as she pulled back from the entrance.

Before she could retreat fully the Cornucopia was suddenly filled with an almost animalistic scream, deep and heavy with desperation, and she froze, watching in shock as the male Tribute from District Eleven sprinted out of a tunnel on the other side of the circular cavern.

Cadmar, she recalled as he brought the machete he carried with him down on the juncture between Zoya's neck and shoulders, slicing deep and sending blood spraying into the air. His name was Cadmar, he was fifteen years old and had been painfully shy during his interview.

And he had just become one of the bravest and/or stupidest people she'd ever met.

A canon sounded as Zoya's body slumped to the floor just as Cadmar spun around and took off for the tunnel he had appeared from, the enraged Careers following after him with murder in mind. Persephone blinked. In their haste to avenge Zoya's death they'd left the Cornucopia and all of the supplies it held completely unguarded and ready to be plundered.

Her legs were moving before she'd even made the conscious decision to take advantage of the current situation, carrying her across the open ground between her tunnel and the Cornucopia. Stumbling to a halt she began snatching up as many bags as she could, heedless of what they contain, and layered them over her back and shoulders until she could carry no more. Only then did she begin snatching up some of the weapons scattered around, cradling them in her arms as carefully as she could so as not to cut herself. Loaded up with what was probably a little bit more than she should really carry she turned and ran as quickly as she could towards her tunnel entrance…or what she sincerely hoped was her tunnel entrance.

Moments after entering the tunnel she heard a cry of pain which echoed unnervingly throughout the tunnels and caverns, just as the canon which followed moments later did.

Cadmar, the Tribute who had just unknowingly helped her and Aurora, was dead. 

“… _ave_ , Cadmar…” she murmured as she hurried along, automatically using the term or remembrance popular in District One. Literally translated it meant ‘ _hail, Cadmar_ ’ and was meant to convey good wishes on either a meeting or, in most cases, a farewell. Usually, as now, the ultimate farewell. “You had no idea you were helping me but I thank you anyway.”

It as a simple comment.

An innocent comment.

People in the Capitol adored her for it.

People in District One recognised and repeated it, surprised by her impressive performance.

People in District Eleven respected her for it.

President Snow, on the other hand, made note that should she emerge the Victor something would have to be done about her “ _sympathies_ ” towards the other Districts before it became a problem. A reminder, he concluded, of how the Districts should work.

Persephone knew none of this.

All she cared about was the fact that upon reaching the cavern with the uneven floor she was reassured that she was indeed on the right path to reunite with her friend and would be able to share the impressive bounty she had managed to secure for the two of them.

~ * ~

 **A/N** Apologies for the delay. Attempted (and failed) a writing challenge in November. But now I'm back to my normal writing schedule. Comments/Suggestions welcome. X


	8. Chapter Eight

**DISCLAIMER:** I don’t own the Hunger Games but the OC’s are my creation.

 **SUMMARY:** Persephone Waters had a future, a talent and a career. Everything was heading in the right direction until she was Reaped for the 72nd Hunger Games…

 **A/N:** The title comes from a quote by Plato - “Music and rhythm find their way into the secret places of the soul.”

 **WARNINGS:** Canon-Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, Language

 

**SECRET PLACES OF THE SOUL**

**CHAPTER EIGHT.**

 

“Right, that's it,” Persephone announced suddenly, her words causing Aurora to jump in surprise where she'd been practicing with one of the knives. Persephone herself had been sat close to the waterfall, one hand trailing through the cool water. “I'm going to bathe.”

“You’re going to _what_?”

They had spent the last two days hidden inside the cave, only venturing out when it became necessary for them to go to the bathroom…not that there were any sort of facilities. Both of them sincerely hoped that the Gamemakers were kind enough not to broadcast them emptying their bladders or worse to the people of Panem. That sort of thing wasn't what people wanted to see during the Games after all; they wanted to see them fighting, dying…

“Bathe,” Persephone repeated herself calmly, bringing her hands to the bottom of her t-shirt. Pulling it up, over her head she tossed the rumpled fabric over to join her abandoned jacket before starting to work on her boots and trousers. “I'm tired of feeling dirty.”

“But…” Aurora gasped, her cheeks flushing a deep red as Persephone calmly removed her bra, allowing her breasts to hang free. “Persephone! What if they're broadcasting this live?”

“I don't care,” she responded, her voice somewhat tight as she removed her socks and then wiggled out of her knickers. “It's one thing to fight to the death inside this Arena but there's nothing in the rules which says I have to be filthy dirty whilst doing it. Pass me that rag?”

 _‘That rag’_ had been a cloth which they had found in the supplies shed taken from the Cornucopia and what it's intended use was she didn't know but it would make a perfectly good wash cloth. There was no soap, of course, but the water would be better than nothing.

“Aren't you…embarrassed?”

“Rory, I have been doing quick changes since I was twelve-years-old,” Persephone chuckled, recalling how embarrassed she had been at first. It had only taken a couple of shows for her to become as blasé about it as everyone else; no one cared about a bit of backstage nudity if there was a quick change to be made. “And you can't wear a bra underneath some of the costumes we have to wear as ballerinas. All of my fellow dancers, the boys included, have seen my breasts at some point before now just as I have seen most of theirs. Not the boys, obviously, as they don't have any breasts. Although their dance underwear does leave very little to the imagination, if you get my meaning.”

“But… _everyone_ could be looking at you…”

“Let them look,” she responded, getting to her feet and making her way out onto the ledge a little way so that the cold water began to flood down over her naked skin but not too far out in case the water pressure knocked her off of the ledge. “After all, the Capitol were the ones who gave me my new breasts; it's only fair that they get to see them at least once.”

She had just begun to rub the rag over her skin when she heated a beeping sound, very different to any of the sounds they'd heard so far inside the Arena, and leaned her head out of the flow of the water to see what it was, holding on to the rocks to keep her balance.

A soft exclamation of surprise escaped her lips as she caught sight of the source of the noise; a delicate looking silver parachute which was making its way down from the roof of the cavern towards her. It was instinctive for her to place the rag between her teeth, holding onto it whilst she reached out with her now free hand to catch the parachute.

This could only mean one thing; she, or Aurora, had received a gift from a Sponsor.

Hurrying back into the cavern she dropped the parachute and the container it had been carrying to the ground in front of the confused Aurora, grinning wildly as she dropped the rag down beside it. It took her a couple of tries to get the large container open, her fingers trembling as the water covering her chilled, the side folding out to reveal what was inside.

“Oh!” she exclaimed with obvious delight, reaching inside to pull out the fluffiest bath towel she had ever seen, running her hands over the lilac coloured fabric. There was a second, smaller towel which was obviously intended to be used on her hair, equally as soft as the first. The second towel was a violet colour. However the most important gift of all, or so Persephone thought just then, lay at the bottom of the container in a little tub. “Soap!”

And not just any soap; _scented_ soap.

Aurora blinked across at her for a long moment before letting out an uncontrollable giggle.

“Percy, you are…one of a kind,” she eventually managed to get out between her adorable giggles. “Most Tributes would be upset to receive such a ‘ _useless’_ gift from a Sponsor; they'd want weapons or food or medicine. And yet here you are literally squealing about soap.”

“I don't need weapons or food or medicine right now,” Persephone responded with a bright giggle of her own. “What I _do_ need is soap; the fact that it's scented is an added bonus.”

That said she place both of the towel as close as she could to the waterfall without getting them wet, freed the floral smelling soap from its little tub, and returned to her ablutions.

As confident as she had acted about her nudity she did hope that the cameras would focus more on her upper body than her lower half, that perhaps the water would be enough to conceal her intimate area from the lecherous gazes of those in the Capitol. She honestly didn't care about them seeing her breasts, however, as they didn't feel real any more.

It turned out that was well as smelling absolutely wonderful the soap was highly moisturising, leaving her skin silky smooth when she finally returned to the cave, using the smaller towel first to create a turban on top of her head to control her wet hair which she had freed from its braid whilst she was washing. Washing her hair with soap wasn't quite the same as using proper shampoo and it certainly didn't do much to condition it but it felt much better than it had earlier, less greasy and dirty. Once that was done, the turban secured in place with a focused of twists and tucks, she wrapped the larger towel around her body, hiding her nakedness from view as she began methodically patting her skin dry.

“…better?”

“Oh, so much better…” she all but groaned in response, smiling across at the younger girl whilst gently patting her legs dry. “There's plenty of soap left if you want to wash up?”

Aurora thought about it for a moment before accepting the bar of soap. She, however, chose not to strip off completely and stepped out onto the ledge in her simple underwear.

They received another parachute the following day.

“What have they sent this time?”

Reaching inside Persephone produced a bright purple hair brush, something she vaguely remembered complaining about not having to hand when they'd been going to sleep the night before. Aurora blinked at it for a moment before chuckling softly, shaking her head.

“Why am I not surprised?”

“Because we have a sponsor who agrees that we should look our best no matter what the situation is?” Persephone responded innocently, already working to in raid her hair. Because it had been braided wet and had been allowed to dry in place it was unpleasantly crinkly and she knew that if she brushed it out without getting it wet first shed end up with a rather large mess. “It's alright for the boys; they look the same no matter what happens to them. But when you've got long hair like we do it takes careful maintenance or it looks like a birds nest, or worse. I know some Tributes are happy to leave their hair alone for the entire duration of the Games but if I have a braid in my hair I'd prefer it to look nice and neat.”

That said she moved to lean her head under the flowing water, soaking her purple hair within a matter of seconds, and then after carefully squeezing it dry with the smaller towel she set about brushing out all of the tangles and knots until it hung in perfectly straight lines, hiding the shaved areas from view until she began brushing the hair up and towards the back of her head so that it was in the correct position for her to braid it once more.

“Want me to do yours, Rory?”

Aurora hesitated to answer, reaching up to play with the ends of her blonde tresses.

“…mum always used to brush my hair before school…” she eventually murmured, tears building up in her expressive eyes. “…and she'd braid it on Sunday's, our day of rest…”

Persephone's heart clenched in sympathy and understanding as she moved to kneel behind where the younger girl was sat, giving her ample opportunity to say no before she began to carefully work out the knots and tangles which had gotten into the soft, golden locks.

“…how do you feel about two Dutch braids which turn into fishtail braids?”

“Considering I don't know what either of those are I don't really have an opinion either way,” Aurora responded softly, tilting her head to one side as Persephone continued to gently guide the brush through her hair. “My mum could only do normal or French braids.”

“A Dutch braid is the same as a French braid, really, only you pass the hair under instead of over,” Persephone explained. “And a fishtail braid…ends up looking sort of like a fishtail…”

Aurora snorted, her melancholy fading.

“Go on, then,” she agreed softly. “I trust your judgement.”

It was somewhat therapeutic for Persephone to craft the two Dutch braids, keeping them tight to Auroras scalp on either side of her centre parting, before switching to the methodical movements needed to create a fishtail braid once there was no more hair to be added in to the braids. She completed the left one first, tying it off with an elastic that she’d found at the bottom of the parachute container before draping it over Auroras shoulder.

“I see what you meant about it looking sort of like a fishtail,” the younger Tribute murmured, trailing the tips of her fingers along the braid. “I like it. It's…different…”

She finished the right one, secured it, and moved around to admire her hard work.

“I didn't think it was possibly for you to look and cuter than you already did,” she offered with a genuine smile. Aurora giggled, gently feeling out the full braids. “I was wrong.”

It was then, of course, that the terrified screams started.

They froze, their eyes blown wide as they stared across the small distance between them.

“Who…” Aurora whimpered as the screams grew even sharper. “Who do you think…?”

“I don't know,” Persephone mumbled. “I don't recognise the voice.”

On and on the screaming continued until, quite suddenly, it stopped.

Moments later they flinched at the familiar boom of a canon.

“What…what do you think happened to…whoever that was?”

“I think…” Persephone trailed off for a moment, biting her lip nervously. “I think that that's what happens when the Gamemakers grow tired of waiting for the next death to occur…”

They learn that evening that it had been Falkon Myers of District Six who had fallen foul of the Gamemakers impatience but they still had no idea what had actually happened; they hadn't witnessed the eighteen-year-old fall to pieces when the cavern he'd been hiding in had suddenly begun to shrink, the exits disappearing as the walls pressed in, crushing him.

No, they had no idea how dangerous the Arena they had found themselves in could truly be.

~ * ~

As though the Tributes had been woken up by the Gamemakers impatience there were two deaths to following day, the first at around lunchtime and accompanied by the sounds of metal clashing against metal, the second only an hour before the Honour Roll was read out. They hadn't heard anything before the second canon had sounded; no screaming, no fighting, no shouting. Nothing. Neither of them could decide if this was a good thing or not.

That evening they learned that the Tribute they'd heard go down fighting had been Hadley Gibson of District Seven while the second canon had been for Pamelyn Lowe of District Twelve. Persephone felt sick when she heard that; Pamelyn had only been twelve-years-old.

Neither of them really sleep that night.

~ * ~

Their seventh day inside of the Arena began as all the others had; the lights in the cavern came on all at once, light flooding into their hidden cave and they shared some of the food between them. They were running a little low but not so much that they were worried.

An hour passed, the two of them talking about their lives before the Games.

Persephone had just begun telling the younger girl all about her first performance in a leading role when it happened; it being the moment that their lives changed forever.

“…and Joshua, he was playing my characters opposite, was just about to…”

Aurora screamed as they suddenly found themselves bombarded by water coming from the back of their little cave, their supplies disappearing with the initial wave as the two girls were forced towards the waterfall. If they fell into the water below they were done for.

Throwing her arms out Persephone grabbed hold of the wall of the cave with one hand and Auroras jacket with the other, pulling the girl towards her as she struggled against the flow of the water to get them out onto the ledge. Both of them were screaming, unable to stop themselves as they discovered that the pressure behind the waterfall had increased to a point where it felt like they were being struck by a flood of rocks as they moved through it.

They emerged out into the cavern, clinging to each other as they found that the water was rising higher and higher, already lapping threateningly at the edge of the floor of the cavern.

“Come on, we can't stay here,” Persephone gasped, pulling Aurora over to the two tunnel entrances. They'd lost all but the small knives each of them had tucked into their boots. “We need to find somewhere safe to hide and figure out how to get some more supplies.”

“O-Ok…”

Hurrying out of the rapidly flooding cavern they took the tunnel they hadn't used yet, the one that they hoped was least likely to lead them back to the Cornucopia. Water lapped at their heels, urging them to move quicker than they would have liked, too quick for them to check that the way ahead of them was clear when the tunnel merged with two others.

It was almost predictable what happened next.

A silhouette appeared before them, lit from behind by the light coming from what they assumed was the end of the large tunnel they were now moving along, their features hidden in the darkness. Persephone stumbled to a halt, grabbing hold of Auroras arm in an effort to stop the younger girl and keep her as close to her as possible. A second silhouette appeared, followed by a third and then finally a fourth, confirming her horrified suspicions.

The Careers had found them.

“I told you I was going to be the one to kill you, Persephone,” Arcturus cackled coldly, the light catching on the sharp blade of his sword as he tapped it against the length of his leg. The tunnel, which had previously been barely lit at all, was suddenly flooded with light. His fellow Careers moved to flank him, their own weapons at the ready; Mace Carter of District Two had a steel tipped spear while his District Partner, Jayne Dunstan had a pair of long knives. Colm Lightfoot appeared to be determined to make himself into the next Finnick Odair having removed his shirt and armed himself with a trident. “Slowly and painfully.”

“I never doubted that fact, Arcturus,” Persephone responded, sounding far braver than she felt in that moment. “However, please excuse me if I don't make it too easy for you...”

Aurora had obviously figured out that she was going to make a break for it and was ready when Persephone grabbed hold of her hand and turned them, both of them sprinting back the way they had come as fast as their legs could carry them in the heavy, damp clothes.

“She's mine!” Arcturus spat venomously. “Nobody touches that bitch but me!”

It happened between one panicked breath and the next; somewhere behind them Mace grunted and, moments later, Aurora let out a startled cry, her hand slipping from Persephone's as her body star-fished in response to the spear striking her in the centre of her back. Persephone let out an anguished cry as her friends body crumpled like a puppet that had had its strings cut, a canon sounding loudly before she'd even hit the ground.

An animalistic roar echoed throughout the tunnel as the Career celebrated their kill even as they continuing education to pursue her while Persephone let out a strangled sob, tears flooding down her cheeks even as she forced herself to keep running, to keep pushing her legs on even though her thighs were beginning to burn painfully from the over exertion.

She didn't plan where she was going.

When the tunnel seem to unexpectedly curve to the right she followed it, the ground now bone dry beneath her feet. She had definitely started from the path she and Aurora had taken moments earlier, taking one of the tunnels which had joined the one they had used.

Eventually it spat her out in a cavern which had what could only be described as a stone walkway suspended from the roof high above where the river flowed uncontrollably. There were five tunnel entrance including the one she had emerged from and she chose one at random, sprinting towards it as quickly as she could in the hopes that she'd be out of sight by the time the Careers reached the cavern. She didn't stop running, following this tunnel as it curved to the left before joining with another; prompting her to take a sharp right turn.

The next cavern she came across was also high above the terrifying river only instead of a stone walkway there was a rope bridge, the wooden slats appearing rotten and unstable. She had two choices; take the other tunnel which was on the same side of the cavern as she had emerged onto or make her way across the rope bridge and take one of the two on the other side. The first was easier, obviously, but if the Careers were following her that would be the way they would assume a ‘ _pathetic little dancer_ ’ would choose so that meant…

“Fine – rope bridge of doom it is.”

Her heart was already pounding within her chest when she placed her left foot on the first of the wooden slats, her hands gripping hold of the painfully coarse ropes which had been used to create the two handrails. It creaked ominously but she pressed forwards, taking each step as swiftly as she dared whilst automatically pulling in her stomach in order to strengthen her core which would help her to keep her balance on the swaying bridge.

“Don't look down,” she mumbled to herself, biting her lip as she dragged eyes up at the last moment, finding a spot of the far wall of the cavern to stare at. “Don't you dare look down.”

It was difficult for her to hear anything over the noise of the water running far below her and the pounding staccato of her own heart but she didn't think she could hear the Careers.

Had she lost them?

“Keep going, Persephone,” she ordered herself. “Can't stop here. Keep going.”

At the centre of the bridge it was swaying so much that she had no choice but to look down at her feet to ensure that she was placing them in the centre of each of the wooden slats.

She whimpered, clutching at the rope, as the bottom seemed to drop out of her stomach.

Had she _ever_ been this high up before?

She didn't know, but one thing she did know for certain was that she _didn't like it._

“Keep going,” she ordered herself once more. “Freak out later; keep going now.”

Eventually, after what felt like a painful eternity, she reached the other side of the cavern safe and sound and paused for a moment to catch her breath. Her whole body trembled.

She could see the Cornucopia through the very short and wide tunnel straight ahead of her so instead of going that way and risking bumping into the Careers again if they'd decided to call of their search she took the tunnel to her left. It wasn't too dark but there was a cold breeze which seemed to press deep into her bones thanks to her wet clothes, setting her teeth off chattering uncontrollably. She passed by a tunnel entrance on her left as it seemed to lead back the way she'd just come from but paused when the tunnel forked.

There was no obvious difference between the he two branches of the tunnel.

“Hmm…” she sighed, deciding that she needed to move sooner rather than later so a random choice was her only option. Her right hand was up and pointing towards the branch leading off to the left before she'd even realised what her cold addled brain had instructed her to do, moving over to the other tunnel and back again, over and over as she sang the childish decision making song under her breath. “ _Eeny-meeny-miny-mo, catch a tiger by the toe, if it wriggles let it go, eeny-meeny-miny-mo, you are out so out you must go._ ”

She finished the song pointing at the same tunnel that she'd started out pointing towards.

“Ok,” she mumbled, dropping her hand to her side. “Left it is…”

Continuing to move with single-minded determination she soon found herself in a cavern which looked like the ones she'd seen in her schools textbooks when they'd been studying natural cave formations; filled with stalagmites and stalactites, water dripping from the roof of the cavern, puddles on the eleven ground. It was also filled with potential hiding places.

Stumbling across the uneven ground she began searching for somewhere suitable for her to hide, keeping to the edges of the cavern so that she was off of the most obvious path. Eventually she found and outcropping for rock which, thanks to the stalagmites closest to it, created a little pocket where someone of her size could curl up without being seen at all.

It was only once she was safely hidden from view that she allowed herself to break down, jamming the cuff of her jacket into her mouth to muffle her sobs as she sobbed brokenly.

“I’m sorry, Aurora…I’m so sorry…”

~ * ~ 

 **A/N** I’m sorry. I didn’t want to do it but I had to; this is the Hunger Games, after all, and the revolution hasn’t happened yet. Comments & Suggestions welcome. X


	9. Chapter Nine

**DISCLAIMER:** I don’t own the Hunger Games but the OC’s are my creation.

 **SUMMARY:** Persephone Waters had a future, a talent and a career. Everything was heading in the right direction until she was Reaped for the 72nd Hunger Games…

 **A/N:** The title comes from a quote by Plato - “Music and rhythm find their way into the secret places of the soul.”

 **WARNINGS:** Canon-Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, Language

 

**SECRET PLACES OF THE SOUL**

**CHAPTER NINE.**

Persephone couldn't have slept that night even if she'd felt safe enough to, her mind repeating the last few moments of her friends life over and over again until she began to fear for her sanity in the pitch black darkness of the Arena. As such when the lights finally clicked on, flooding the cavern with artificial light, she couldn't contain her whimper of pain as her eyes struggled to adapt after so much time spent looking out into complete darkness.

She daren’t close her eyes, however, as she was already more vulnerable than ever before.

Her fingers ached, literally throbbing with the blood being pumped through her system, as they continued to clutch at the small dagger which was all she had left to defend herself with, her elbow resting on her bent knees so that the blade trembling in front of her face.

Exhaustion weighed heavy upon her shoulders as she struggled to collect her thoughts in order to come up with some sort of a plan. She had forced herself to listen to the announcement of the day's dead even though the sound of Aurora’s name had caused her stomach to clench painfully, but it had helped her to figure out that the 72nd Hunger Games was now down to its final five Tributes; Colm Lightfoot of District Four, Mace Carter and Jayne Dunstan of District Two and Arcturus Friar and Persephone Waters of District One.

One her top priorities, she realised, would be getting her hands on some supplies. It wasn't too bad yet, merely a niggling sense of thirst and hunger, but the longer she went without food or more importantly water the worse it would become. She could remember the lecture they'd been given about the symptoms of dehydration; thirst, headaches, general discomfort, loss of appetite, decreased urine volume, confusion, tiredness and eventually seizures. If the symptoms didn't kill her, as was possible, then the Careers no doubt would.

Given the fact that they were down to the final five it was incredibly unlikely that any of her sponsors would be permitted to send her anything as the Gamemakers had a habit of denying the Tributes what they desperately needed in order to force them to become reckless. Many a Tribute had lost their life in a desperate struggle to find sustenance or medicine at this late stage in the Games, not registering the danger they were in until it was far too late thanks to the debilitating symptoms of dehydration, starvation and infection.

“Well, then, I guess there's only one thing for it…”

She needed to return to the one place which she knew for a fact still had plenty of supplies left because she'd already raided it once before; the Cornucopia at the centre of the Arena.

Of course as well as the problem of the Careers, given that the Cornucopia was their base camp, a new problem had arisen for her due to her unplanned flight through the tunnels she had no idea where she was or how to get back to the Cornucopia. As soon as she set foot outside of the cavern filled with stalactites and stalagmites she'd be lost, forced to follow an unfamiliar path into the numerous caverns which no doubt made up the Arena.

Pulling herself up to her feet she hissed as her stiff limbs protested the movement, her body automatically beginning a series of stretches to ease out the numerous kinks and stiffness.

Twisting her upper body as far around to the left as it could go she let out a satisfied groan as one of the knots in her lower back came loose with an audible pop. Repeating the motion to the right achieved the same results with the other knot resulting in a moan this time.

“Oh, that's better…”

Tucking her knife into her boot for the moment she stepped away from her hiding place, climbing up onto another one of the stalagmites so as to survey the cavern around her. There were three tunnels leaning out of this particular cavern; two close together and one on its own on the opposite side of the cavern and she had some inkling that she'd come through one of the two set close together the night before so today she'd go the other way.

Dropping down she brushed the stray hairs back from her face before retrieving her knife from her boot and heading towards the lone tunnel. Her heart was pounding in her chest as she made her way slowly along the curved tunnel, knife held up in a defensive manner.

For all she knew the Careers could be poised at the end of the tunnel waiting to pounce…

Thankfully they weren’t.

What _was_ waiting for her, however, was what appeared to be a dead end until she looked down and saw a gap a couple of feet high at the bottom of the rock face. Frowning she crouched down so that she could duck her head down low enough to see into the space ahead; it was pitch black but for the light spewing in from the three tunnels leading into it.

There was just enough light to see that the entire cavern was no higher than the entrance.

“…I really hope there's no creepy crawlers in here…”

Gritting her teeth she lay down on her front and began to crawl forwards into the narrow cavern, keeping her body flush to the ground so as to ensure that she didn't hit the ceiling.

It wasn't easy, crawling across the rough ground on her belly using her knees and elbows to propel her forwards, and she had only just reached the halfway point between the two sources of light when a metallic clunking sound echoed threateningly around her. She froze, staring fearfully towards where the two tunnel entrances sat side by side just as they had in the last cavern, and let out an uncontrollable scream when the ceiling dropped an inch.

“No, no, no, no…” she mumbled, her breath transforming into sharp gasps as she forced her body to begin moving once more at twice the speed she had been moving before. She barely noticed when the rough floor of the cavern tore through the fabric on her knees and elbows, shredding her skin, too focused on scrambling towards the exit before the ceiling could lower any further than it already had. “This is _not_ how I die! _This is not how I die!_ ”

Another clunk sounded when she was a couple of metres away from the identical tunnel entrances and this time when the ceiling dropped it knocked the back of her head, causing her to duck so much that she scraped the side of her face against the floor as she forced herself to keep moving. Her words had been reduced to terrified whimpers as she all but scrambled towards the relative safety of the tunnels, pulling herself through into the relatively open space just as a third clunking sound echoed and the ceiling dropped entirely.

Scrambling away from what was now a dead end she struggled to retain control of her breathing, her hands trembling entirely too much to keep holding onto her knife. This was dropped between her feet for the time being as she wrapped her thin arms around herself.

Her heart was pounding so much she was amazed it wasn't echoing through the tunnel.

“That was…” she gasped, shaking her head back and forth. “That was _way_ too close…”

She could have been…

It was only the fact that her brain began registering the pain she was in that stopped her rapid descent into a full blown case of hyperventilation, the need to figure out how badly she had hurt herself during her mad scramble shorting out the panic for the moment. Her knees were a bloody mess and, once she'd wiped away the worst of the blood with her sleeve, it looked as though her skin had done battle with a cheese-grater. Her elbows weren't much better, blood trickling from the deep cuts, but it was the pain resonating from her chest which distracted her the most; apparently in her desperate attempt to escape the cavern she had failed to notice her artificially enlarged breasts scraping across the floor.

“Ow…” she moaned childishly as she assessed the damage, thankfully finding that her sports bra had protected the most sensitive parts of her breasts from injury when the fabric of her jacket and t-shirt had been torn so the only real damage had been done to her cleavage. “…perhaps they should have waited to improve my breasts until _after_ the Games…”

Not that her stylist had had much confidence in her emerging victorious.

Not that anyone, Persephone included, had really.

Still, that was as close as she could get on camera to complaining about the work which had been forced upon her before the Tribute Parade without getting into trouble for her comments. Had they left her alone she was confident that her breasts wouldn't have come anywhere near the ground, given how flat they'd been, so her injuries would have been less.

There was nothing to be done about it now, however, so she forced herself to get to her feet and continue on her way. After a couple of paces she paused, hissing angrily at herself before hurrying back to collect the small knife she had forgotten and left lying on the floor.

“You _might_ need that, Persephone…”

Clutching the knife in her hand she began to make her way along the tunnel, stumbling a little at first as her body continued to tremble with the shock of almost being crushed to death. She couldn't help but wonder if any of the other Tributes had been killed that way…

Following the curve of the tunnel she almost sagged in relief when she saw the horn at the centre of the Cornucopia through the exit of the tunnel and was about to find a safe vantage point like she had the last time she'd raided the Careers supplies when a voice startled her.

“Hey!”

She jumped, spinning around to face away from the Cornucopia to face the direction that the unpleasantly familiar voice had emanated from; it turned out that the tunnel she was in split off into two a couple of metres from where it emerged into the Cornucopia, a fact that she hadn't noticed due to the shadows covering the walls, and all four of the Careers were using this other branch of the tunnel to make their own way back towards the Cornucopia.

“Get her!”

Letting out an unintentional scream Persephone stumbled backwards, narrowly avoiding the deadly blades of Colm’s trident as he swung it towards her in a controlled arch. Turning what should have been a fall backwards into something of a dive, twisting her body around so that she was facing towards the Cornucopia and forcing her falling bodyweight to propel herself forwards. It turned out to be a lucky thing, in the end, that her body was practically bent double for so long as it meant that the spear thrown by Jayne completely missed her.

Emerging into the Cornucopia she forced her legs to move faster than they ever had before, all too aware of how much closer her pursuers were this time, and she was forced to lurch from side to side in a somewhat zig-zag pattern to avoid the knives they threw at her back.

“Give up now, bitch!” Arcturus called out after a knife grazed her shoulder, causing her to let out a sharp cry of pain as her blood was drawn. “You know you can’t outrun us!”

“Probably not,” she called out over her shoulder as she sprinted past the supplies she so desperately needed, her throat positively burning with thirst. “But I’m still going to try!”

It was a relief when they finally ran out of throwing knives, the last one rebounding off of the wall just as she threw herself into the entrance of the tunnel she’d been aiming for.

Emerging into the cavern she found herself face with the familiar sight of the rope bridge and, without a moment’s hesitation, began making her way across it. And it was then, just as she’d reached the halfway point, that she had a truly crazy idea which would either work like a charm and save her life or kill them all in one, fell swoop and came to an abrupt stop.

Turning back to face her pursuers she was both surprised and pleased to find that they too had stopped, frowning across at her from where they were stood just off of the rope bridge.

Persephone squared her shoulders, swallowed once so as to find her voice and called out,

“I’m not afraid of you!”

“Really?” Jayne scoffed, glaring across at the other girl as she twirled her long fighting knives in her hands. “Then why did you run away from us? Sure seemed like you were afraid…”

Reaching out with her free hand Persephone felt along the handrail of the bridge, searching for a loose piece of rope whilst never looking away from the Careers who had slowly begun to make their way along the bridge. When she found one she had to bite the inside of her cheek to stop herself from smiling in relief as she wrapped the loose rope around her wrist.

“That wasn’t fear,” she scoffed in return. “That was just _survival instinct_. Four Careers against a ballerina? I know what the odds are of me surviving _that_. But that doesn’t mean I’m afraid of you; it just means that I’ve got enough common sense to know when to run.”

“Then why aren’t you running now?”

That was Colm, leading the way across the rope bridge with his trident ready to strike.

“…because I don’t need to run anymore,” she told them as cryptically as she could, offering them a smile she had perfected for a performance where she was a cursed toy. “You do.”

With that she brought the sharp blade of her knife to the other handrail, frantically sawing at the rope with as much force as she could manage until it gave way with a loud snap.

“Hey!” Jayne cried out fearfully, lurching as the bridge shook. “What are you doing?!”

Persephone ignored her, starting work on the other handrail.

“No!” Colm protested. “Stop!”

The second handrail snapped, the four Careers hurrying to grab hold of it on their side of the split even as she dropped down to her knees, checking the rope which was wrapped around her wrist to make sure it was as secure as it could possibly be, before attacking the thicker ropes which the planks of wood had been bound to. These took longer to cut through, so long that she began to fear they wouldn’t give way, but eventually the first of them gave way under her knife putting all of the strain on a single rope. Too much strain, it turned out.

Hers wasn’t the only scream to echo throughout the cavern as the bridge snapped in half sending the two sides plummeting downwards, dislodging both Colm and Joyce who weren’t quick enough to grab on to anything and were sent plummeting down towards the violent river. In no time at all her own descent ended as the remains of the bridge swung towards the rock face on her side of the river, striking it with enough force to knock the wind out of her and had she not wrapped the rope around her wrist she would have followed them down towards the churning water as her fingers spasmed in response to hitting the wall.

On the other side of the river Arcturus, who had been the last on the bridge, had thrown himself off of the bridge when he’d felt it starting to give way. He’d ended up hanging from his fingers, his body flush against the rock face, and was already working to pull himself up.

Mace had just about managed to hold onto the wooden slats of the bridge, hanging from one arm as the other managed to keep hold of his sword. He was trembling, his body suffering with shock from the close call, and couldn’t stop himself from cursing her bitterly.

A single canon sounded, echoing loudly, and then a long moment later a second followed.

“…you fucking bitch…just you wait…I’ll get you…”

He’d never get the chance to come clean on his threats.

Persephone watched, hanging from her half of the bridge, as the Tribute from District Two made his way up the bridge, treating it as though it were a ladder. A couple of times the planks gave way under his weight, prompting him to falter as he caught himself, but soon enough he was in a position to pull himself up off of the broken bridge…only to let out a startled cry when Arcturus calmly thrust his sword through the other boys exposed chest.

“…fucking…bastard…”

Arcturus chuckled mirthlessly in response to the mortally wounded Tributes choked words, ruthlessly twisting his sword until a third canon echoed throughout the cavern. She watched as the now lifeless body fell backwards, gravity pulling his carcass off of the blood soaked blade and sending him down into the churning waters which had claimed his comrades.

“It's just you and me now, bitch.”

“Yes, I’m very much aware of that fact, Arcturus,” she muttered to herself, turning her back on the grotesque sight he made standing there with blood splatter all over the front of his clothes, his sword dripping with blood at his side. Tucking her own blade, clean but for a few tiny strands of rope, into her boot she began to climb up the bridge. “Thank you so much...”

“ _I said_ it’s just you and me now, bitch!”

“Yes, Arcturus, I heard you,” she snapped at him over her shoulder, fighting down the terror that was building within her so that she could glare at him. “No need to state the obvious.”

It was never good when the Games came down to two Tributes from the same District.

“I’m going to kill you.”

Yes, that was likely to be the outcome…

“Slowly,” Arcturus continued, repeating his earlier threats to her as she finally reached to top of the bridge, pulling herself up onto the floor of the cavern. Rolling onto her back she lay there for a long moment, catching her breath before getting up to face him. “Painfully.”

Drawing on her acting skills she concealed the fear now coursing through her body, standing with her hands on her hips as she offered him an arched eyebrow of feigned indifference.

“And I’m going to _enjoy_ it…”

“You know, Arcturus, I don’t doubt that for a moment given that you’re a complete and utter psychopath,” she responded, squaring her shoulders and jutting out her hip in a positively sassy move. “But, please, excuse me if I don’t roll over and make it easy for you.”

And, with that, she turned and ran.

~ * ~

 **A/N** I can’t actually think of anything to write. LOL. Hadn’t intended to work on this story this week but it wouldn’t leave me alone so here it is. Hope you enjoyed it. Comments & Suggestions welcome. X


	10. Chapter Ten

**DISCLAIMER:** I don’t own the Hunger Games but the OC’s are my creation.

 **SUMMARY:** Persephone Waters had a future, a talent and a career. Everything was heading in the right direction until she was Reaped for the 72nd Hunger Games…

 **A/N:** The title comes from a quote by Plato - “Music and rhythm find their way into the secret places of the soul.”

 **WARNINGS:** Canon-Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, Language

 

**SECRET PLACES OF THE SOUL**

**CHAPTER TEN**

It took three days for the Gamemakers to grow bored of waiting for the final confrontation to take place, for them to decide to interfere in order to finally bring the Games to a close.

Persephone was weak.

Too weak.

She had managed to find various water sources whilst moving through the Arena, avoiding Arcturus with ease now that there were no other Tributes to worry about bumping into, but not a single morsel of food had passed her lips since before Aurora had been killed and because of this she was beginning to waste away. Her body, once slim, now appeared gaunt with her skin pulled tight across her bones, particularly in her face although she personally found the sight of her prominent rib-cage above her hollow stomach the most disturbing.

It was doubtful, should it come down to a fight; that she would have the energy required to fight back. Her limbs felt unusually heavy as she stumbled through the tunnels on what was to be the final day of the 72nd Hunger Games, her boots dragging across the uneven floor.

In comparison her head felt like it was full of hot air, pulling her this way and that as she lurch uncontrollably from one side of the tunnel to the other, catching herself on the walls.

She was just beginning to consider giving up, of finding somewhere suitably comfortable for her to sit and wait for her death to come, when the Gamemakers implemented their plan.

A thunderous sound echoed through the tunnel she was traversing.

“What the…?”

Just as she paused to glance over her shoulder the tunnel behind her began to shake so violently she was thrown into the wall, clutching on desperately to steady herself. A scream forced itself way out of her throat as the far end of the tunnel suddenly crumbled, the walls collapsing in on themselves as pieces of rubble fell from the ceiling, growing in size and frequency until all that was left of the tunnel she had only just walked though was darkness.

It turned out that she wasn't quite ready to accept her inevitable fate, her survival instinct kicking in and creating just enough adrenaline to get her body moving. She ran as fast as she could, weaving unsteadily from more than just her own physical weakness, desperately trying to outrun the chaos behind her even as small pieces of rubble struck her upper body.

It felt like an eternity for her as she kept heading away from the destruction, blindly following the tunnels and caverns which had yet to collapse, until eventually she found herself emerging into the Cornucopia. A great plume of dust followed her as the last section of the tunnel collapsed, trapping her inside the cavern, and a quick glance around confirmed that the rest of the tunnels leading away from the Cornucopia had suffered the same fate.

A mirthless chuckle echoed around the large cavern sending a shiver of fear down her spine.

“I've been waiting for you, bitch,” Arcturus called out, emerging from the dust covered horn at the centre of the Cornucopia, the light glinting off of his deadly sword. “Time to die...”

Her knife was still tucked in her boot after she'd found herself struggling to hold onto it the previous evening, her hands trembling too much, but she disregarded the idea of retrieving it given that it wouldn't do her much good unless she could find a way past Arcturus’ sword.

And speaking of sword…

Within one moment and the next he was suddenly directly in front of her, swinging his sword in a wide arc and she only just managed to avoid it, yelping uncontrollably as she threw herself into a surprisingly graceful forwards roll. Returning fluidly to her feet she took off at a run, heading towards the pile of weapons she could see in the mouth of the horn.

She couldn't avoid him forever, the logical part of her brain informed her as she pushed her exhausted legs as hard as she could, so she needed to find something to defend herself with. Yes, such an action might only buy her a couple more minutes of life inside this hellish place but she'd promised herself she would go down fighting. She would not crumble as he expected her to, she would not beg for mercy; she would show him just how strong she was.

“You're just delaying the inevitable, bitch!”

“Oh, I know that,” she gasped out breathlessly, desperately trying to ignore the fact that his heavy footfalls were approaching all too rapidly. She stumbled to a halt at the pile of weapons, her hands snatching up the first thing they found, and she turned just in time to block a second swing of his sword with the metal spear. “And my name is _Persephone_!”

Holding the spear as though it were a staff, her hands spread just as they'd shown her during the training sessions, she surprised herself by parrying his next five swings of his sword. He was going for a dramatic effect rather than simply getting the job done and it was this, the fact that he was broadcasting his moves long before the blade came near her, that allowed her to be able to actually put up a fight. It reminded her of the stage fighting she'd learned back at the _Academy_ only they'd been using mock weapons with dulled tips and edges; this fight was very much real and would end with one of them dead, most likely her.

Arcturus laughed.

“No one will care what your name is a week from now,” he spat at her, swinging his sword towards her side with enough force that when she blocked into with the spear the metal pole thudded painfully into the palms of her hands. “You'll be just another failed Tribute…”

It was pure instinct for her to use his split focus against him and swing what turned out to be the sharp end of the spear up into his groin with as much force as she could manage.

She watched, partially horrified by her actions and partially fascinated to see that it had worked, as the sharp point sliced through the fabric of his trousers as though they were made out of paper, exposing the flesh of his thigh. Arcturus let out an explosive scream of pain as the sharp point dug into the meat of his thigh, ripping through his flesh as it travelled up the inside of his muscular leg before finally coming to a halt buried in his groin.

It was Persephone's turn to cry out in pain as Arcturus responded by driving the point of his sword into her side, her blood spurting out when he removed the weapon to mix with his on the ground between them. Releasing her hold on the spear she stumbled backwards, her hands moving to clutch at the epicentre of the pain coursing through her body, gasping in shock when her foot caught on something unseen sending her crashing down onto her back.

“…you…fucking… _bitch_ …”

Gripping hold of the spear with his free hand Arcturus pulled it free of his body, grunting in pain and stumbling ever so slightly as more of his blood spurted out onto the ground. She pushed herself backwards with her heels, desperately trying to get away, but she wasn't quick enough and in the blink of an eye he had driven the spear she had used against him through her stomach with enough force to bury the deadly point deep into the ground beneath her, trapping her in place as she suddenly found herself impaled upon the weapon.

Persephone let out a blood-curdling scream as her body convulsed uncontrollably with pain, her hands automatically moving to cradle the torn flesh around the pole emerging from her body. Unfortunately this movement, uncontrollable as it was, only caused her more pain.

Tears fell uncontrollably from her pain filled eyes, flooding down her cheeks as she tilted her head up so as to study the wound, a whimper escaping her a she saw the blood rapidly soaking through the fabric of her jacket. Arcturus let out a cruel laugh which echoed throughout the cavern, drawing her attention back to her opponent just as he lifted his sword and plunged it down through the flesh below her right collarbone, pressing down on the pommel until it too had passed all of the way through her body and into the ground.

She screamed, throwing her head back to thud against the ground.

“I told you I'd kill you slowly…” he grunted, giving the sword a twist which caused her to let out another high pitched blood-curdling scream as the pain increased. “…and _painfully_ …”

Yes, he had.

And she'd believed him.

That didn't mean she was in any way prepared for just how much it would hurt…

Leaving her whimpering in pain, her hands fluttering from the points where the weapons were impaled in her body to the open wound in her side, he made his way over to the pile of weapons and took his time selecting a collection of knives, all more delicate than deadly.

He chuckled deeply, returning to where she was pinned to the floor, and delivered two brutal kicks to the inside of her knees in order to force her legs apart. A cold feeling of dread pooled in her already churning stomach as he settled down between her now spread legs, thrusting his blood-soaked crotch against hers in a foul imitation of the act of lovemaking.

No…

_No…_

She brought her hands up to push desperately at his chest but this just caused him to laugh all the more, grabbing her by her right wrist and positioning her arm at her side so that he could force one of the knives he had collected through her narrow wrist and into the floor.

Delivering a surprisingly strong slap to his face with her left hand, the pain from her right arm already blending in with the pain she'd already been suffering through, she made sure to scratch her nails into his flesh as deeply as she could, drawing more of his blood before he was finally able to pin down her left arm and slam a knife through the palm of her hand.

“This is a good look for you, bitch,” Arcturus chuckled coldly, grinding himself down against her once again even as he reached for another of the knives he'd abandoned in a pile beside them. “Completely at my mercy…but let's get these pesky clothes out of the way, shall we?”

No…

There was nothing she could do to stop him, however, and her thrashing only made her body hurt worse or caused him to slice into her skin as he set about literally cutting off her clothes, exposing her milky white skin to the cool sir. It was as he was cutting through the straps of her sports bra, intent on getting his hands on her breasts, that she felt the blade holding her right arm in place give way just a fraction when she accidentally pulled at it.

Arcturus was so focused on stripping her down to her skin that he failed to notice when she shifted her focus to the knife in her wrist, gritting her teeth against the pain as she began jerking her arm up as forcefully as she could manage, the knife shifting more each time.

And then, suddenly, it came free of the ground.

Before she had time to really think it through she brought the handle of the blade up to her mouth, biting down on it to hold it in place whilst she pulled her arm free of the blade, her blood splashing down onto her face and into her eyes. Arcturus, who had just begun to palm at the blood-stained flesh of her breasts, looked up just in time to see the blade now held in her trembling hand as it was thrust up into the vulnerable flesh on the underside of his jaw.

He gasped, choking on his own blood, his eyes going wide with shock.

And then, accompanied by the sound of a canon, he died.

She pushed his limp body off of her, watching as it landed in an undignified heap beside her, and then lay there staring at him, her body trembling uncontrollably from pain and shock.

She'd…she'd done it…

Arcturus was dead…

And that meant…

 **“Ladies and Gentlemen, may I present the winner of the 72nd Annual Hunger Games!”** Claudius Templesmith’s voice echoed throughout the silent cavern. **“Persephone Waters!”**

She'd done it…

Against all odds she'd done it…

And then, the pain and blood loss finally getting the better of her, she knew no more.

~ * ~

 **A/N** So…that happened…comments  & suggestions welcome as always. X


	11. Chapter Eleven

**CHAPTER ELEVEN.**

 

If she closed her eyes Persephone truly believed that she could imagine she was back home in District One preparing to step out on stage as part of a recital or a performance rather than to take part in her final interview of the 72nd Annual Hunger Games. It helped that her designer in his infinite wisdom had decided to put her in a traditional ballet costume for the special occasion and as such she was the very image of the _Lilac Fairy_ from _Sleeping Beauty_.

 

As far as costumes went this by far the finest she had ever worn; a delicate lilac coloured “pancake” tutu covered with a design of real lilacs which also included a carefully reinforced bodice so as to control her artificially enhanced breasts, deliciously soft tights which had an ombré effect getting lighter towards her feet and, of course, her beloved pointe shoes.

 

There was no crown, however, even though this type of costume traditionally called for one although she had a pretty good idea why it was missing; the President would be presenting her with her Victors Crown during the final official ceremony of the 72nd Hunger Games so they wouldn't want to cause him any awkwardness by already having given her a crown.

 

“Are you ready?”

 

Opening her eyes, the shape of them enhanced by the dramatic makeup they had given her for the occasion, she turned to look at her Mentors. They had been at her bedside when she'd woken up in the hospital, confused and strangely numb thanks to the medication she had been given to help with the pain and had remained close by ever since, barely letting her out of their sight. She didn't understand it, given that they hadn't been particularly kind to her before she'd entered the Arena, but it was comforting to have them beside her.

 

“Yes,” she responded, conjuring up a genuine looking smile for them. “I'm ready.”

 

Cashmere offered her a less than genuine smile in return, reaching up to brush her hand over the smoothed back hairstyle they'd given her for the occasion. Someone, quite possibly their District Escort, had decided that they should present a united front for this special occasion and as such Cashmere and Gloss were also dressed in traditional ballet costumes.

 

It was probably a good thing that they'd given Cashmere a “romantic” style tutu rather than a “pancake” style one, the layers of translucent fabric hanging naturally around her long legs. Predictably it was purple, a slightly darker shade than what Persephone was wearing.

 

Gloss, on the other hand, had been given the full ballet treatment and, despite their previous encounters and difficulties, Persephone couldn't help but feel a little bit sorry for him. They'd dressed him as a prince, with a military style jacket which was cut so as to draw attention to the structured bulge between his thighs, the thick tights he had been forced to wear leaving absolutely nothing to the imagination as they clung to his impressive muscles.

 

“Remember what we spoke about earlier,” he advised her, tugging at the cuffs of the tight sleeves of his jacket, attempting to pull them down a little bit more. “You’re grateful to the Capitol for the opportunity they gave you. You’re thankful for their help. Smile. Be happy.”

 

Persephone nodded.

 

They’d explained to her that, as a Victor, she would be under constant scrutiny due to the special status she had been granted. In return for the generous income she would receive from the Capitol she was expected to portray a positive image of the Hunger Games, no matter what her own feelings were. She would also, when the time was right, act as a Mentor to her own Tributes; lining up Sponsors, arranging the gifts and help with tactics.

 

“Oh!” Titus exclaimed as he hurried up to her, wearing his own purple ballet inspired ensemble. His hair, still clipped painfully short, had now been dyed purple. “You look absolutely wonderful, Persephone! I’m _so_ glad it was you who won and not that boy!”

 

She offered him a bashful smile, automatically thanking him for his compliment, just as Batiatus, River, Gala and Bane arrived. They too were dressed in clothes which had obviously been inspired by ballet costumes although thankfully they weren’t purple.

 

Persephone was truly beginning to hate the colour purple.

 

 **“Ladies and Gentlemen!”** Caesar’s distinct voice echoed around them, sending an unpleasant shudder running down her spine. River giggled, fluffing her hair. **“The time has come! First we shall meet those who have helped our intrepid Victor along the way starting with her stylist, Batiatus Lang, and his team of helpers; River, Gala and Bane!”**

 

The gaggle of Capitolites tumbled out onto the stage, hurrying over to exchange chaste cheek kisses with Caesar before launching into a detailed explanation of Persephone’s outfits, explaining the reasons behind every little thing from colour to pattern to style.

 

“We are _so_ lucky to have them,” Titus gushed, fussing with one of the flowers on the bodice of her tutu until it sat the way he thought it should. “Only the _very_ best for my Victors!”

 

**“And now, time to meet out friend, District One’s delightful Escort – Titus!”**

It was a relief when the perky man hurried onto the stage, leaving the three Victors alone.

 

“Remember to honour the fallen,” Cashmere advised suddenly. “It makes things easier in the long run. If you…if you can’t honour Arcturus then that’s fine. Understandable. But the others, especially the ones that you had a hand in…in _eliminating_ , you need to honour. Ok?”

 

Persephone nodded.

 

“Compliment their fighting styles or their determination,” Gloss instructed. “But try not to over-do it. _You_ were better than them and you need to make sure the Capitol remember it.”

 

**“And now, let’s welcome District One’s Mentors, Cashmere and Gloss Peridotte!”**

 

She could see the moment that their Capitol masks slipped into place; their spines visibly straightening as they over-corrected their posture, false smiles appearing on their faces.

 

Gloss offered his arm to his sister,

 

“Shall we?”

 

Cashmere linked her arm with his,

 

“We shall.”

 

Moving together with practised ease they stepped out onto the stage and finally, for the first time since she’d woken up in the hospital, she was alone. The temptation to break down and cry was like a knife to her chest which, thanks to Arcturus, she could actually compare things to now…but she couldn’t. She had to be strong. She had to keep fighting.

 

Because, given what her Mentors had been telling her, the Games weren’t really over.

 

The Arena had just gotten bigger.

 

**“You two must be _so_ proud of your remarkable Tribute!” **

_Remarkable_.

 

She’d been called that before by countless people who had been impressed by her natural talent, her persistence and perseverance to improve her craft, by her graceful movement.

 

In the past she’d been flattered but now, when they were impressed by her ability to survive the Hunger Games, impressed with her skills as a killer, a murderer?

 

Now she was ashamed to be called such a thing.

 

 **“We are _so_ proud of her,” **Cashmere’s voice echoed through the room. **“And we were lucky to have her, Caesar. She was a model Tribute; studious, hard-working, courageous, full of determination, but above all else she actually listened to all of the advice we gave her.”**

Persephone couldn’t help but frown given that, really, they’d written her off as a lost cause and focused their attention on Arcturus, the Tribute everyone had been expecting to win.

 

Of course she realised what they were doing; they were playing the parts expected of them.

 

The Capitol didn’t want to hear that they’d focused on the wrong Tribute, as it were. They wanted to hear about her _journey_ from Tribute to Victor, just like she’d seen them soak up the stories and tales about the previous Victors including Cashmere and Gloss themselves.

 

**“And such a _beautiful_ young woman, so _stylish_ ; how fitting for District One.” **

**“Indeed, Caesar,”** Gloss murmured and she could practically hear the false smile in his voice, not that the Capitol would ever notice that it was fake. **“Persephone _is_ beautiful.” **

Judging by the way the audience responded her being considered beautiful was almost as exciting as the fact that she had just won the Hunger Games, the rapturous applause intermingled with whoops, cheers and even screams almost threatening to deafen her.

 

 **“Well, I suppose it’s time that we meet our newest Victor,”** Caesar announced, his words sending another unpleasant chill down her spine. **“So, ladies and gentleman, please put your hands together for Miss Persephone Waters, Victor of the 72 nd Hunger Games!” **

 

Sucking in a calming breath she squared her shoulders, fixed her own fake smile onto her face and stepped out onto the stage. A spotlight fell on her, blinding her for a moment, but somehow she managed not to falter and moved gracefully over to where Caesar was stood.

 

It was automatic for her to exchange a kiss on the cheek with the enigmatic host, placing her hand in his and allowing him to guide her to one of the delicate stools situated in the centre of the stage. Taking her seat she offered the audience a smile before focusing on Caesar.

 

 **“Persephone, I am _so_ relieved to see you here on this stage with me once more,” **Caesar gushed theatrically, reaching over to take her hand. **“You were my favourite, you know.”**

**“Thank you, Caesar,”** Persephone gushed in response, making a show of squeezing his hand as she smiled across at him, relying on the lessons taught to her in order to suitably imitate his level of excitement. **“That means so much to me. And I am _so_ glad to be back here.” **

They exchanged pleasantries for a moment longer, complimenting each other’s elaborate outfits, Caesar reassuring her that the doctors had done a _splendid job_ erasing her scars, before finally it was time for the official video recap of the 72nd Hunger Games to begin.

 

A hush fell over the room as the lights dimmed, multiple screens appearing around the room so that everyone would have a perfectly clear view of the compulsory broadcast.

 

The broadcast began with the Reaping’s, showing mere glimpses of the others before playing her own in full, and then the screen was dominated by her appearance at the Tribute Parade, complete with a close up of the moment Arcturus had attempted to sabotage her outfit and expose her to the camera’s. It seemed that, even though the Games were at an end, the rule about not allowing anyone to see what went on the Training Centre still stood as the next portion of the broadcast was dedicated to the pre-Game interviews.

 

Seeing Aurora on the screen was almost too much for her and of course this was the moment they chose to put her reaction in the corner of the screen, catching the exact moment that Caesar produced a crisp white handkerchief from his pocket for her to use.

 

It was a good thing that her makeup was apparently waterproof and that, thanks to years of pushing through sadness and pain on stage without anyone knowing, she could get herself under control by the time they’d moved on to the District Four interviews in all their _glory_.

 

They replayed hers last, out of order, and the audience reacted just as wildly as they had the first time around, particularly when they replayed her simple demonstration of her skills.

 

 **“…sloppy arms…”** she muttered to herself, causing Caesar to stare at him and the audience to gasp. **“Sorry. I hate watching myself dance. I can’t stop myself from picking faults…”**

 

And then, far too quickly, it was time to watch the footage from inside the Arena.

 

It turned out that Rowan Weiss, the twelve year old boy from District Twelve, was the first Tribute to die during the Cornucopia bloodbath when his neck was snapped by Arcturus.

 

They put the time of death in the corner of the screen in bright, bold numbers, recorded as the length of time that they’d survived in the Arena. It sickened her that the audience actually jeered at these initial deaths, bemoaning the lack of a “decent performance.”

 

Hyacinth Stone of District Eight was actually killed by Warren Kingston of District Five whilst they were fighting over a bag of supplies before Warren himself was killed by Mace Carter.

 

Remus Ashton of District Three and Grace Ayala of District Eleven died at exactly the same moment according to the clock in the corner of the screen, killed by Colm Lightfoot and Zoya Kane respectively once the pair from District Four had armed themselves. Her composure was tested once more when poor Dafyd Aguilar, the twelve year old boy from District Eight, wept for his mother as he bled slowly to death with Jayne Dunstan’s knife in his stomach.

 

She wasn’t the only one struggling to control her emotions however she suspected hers were the only genuine tears in the room, everyone else just playing for the various cameras.

 

Eighteen year old Ulrik Nunez of District Ten had been given reasonably good odds by the Gamemakers and because of this he was targeted by all of the Careers at one point or another but it was Zoya who finally finished him off with a well-aimed spear to his heart.

 

Arcturus took out Nadya Wainwright of District Five and Wade Marshall of District Seven in quick succession, a dark grin on his face making it clear that he had enjoyed every single kill.

 

Thirteen year old Jaidra Reef of District Six had almost made it into one of the tunnels when Colm’s trident, thrown with deadly precision from almost twenty feet away, struck her back.

 

Mace tormented poor Raoul Fields from District Nine for almost five minutes, letting the younger boy think that he had a chance, drawing out the fight between them before finally, ruthlessly finishing him off by cutting his throat. It was unintentionally cruel so of course the audience loved it, applauding even as Persephone bit her lip to keep herself under control.

 

She couldn’t afford to let her mask of indifference slip…

 

The last Tribute to lose their life in the Bloodbath was fourteen year old Jocelyn Salinas of District Twelve who had hidden amongst the supplies, a knife clutched in her hand, until the worst of the fighting was over. It was only when she attempted to make her way to one of the tunnels that the Careers realised that she was there, chasing her down and killing her.

 

If only the end of the Bloodbath meant that the worst was over…

 

For a moment the screen was dedicated to following the various Tributes who had survived the Bloodbath as they spread out throughout the Arena, each of them taking very different routes through the tunnels, before Persephone found herself once again watching her own progress. She had to admit that her confident act was very convincing, particularly when she and Aurora were traversing the cavern with the ridiculously uneven floor, and her obvious flexibility was definitely something the audience approved of, particularly towards the end.

_“Persephone?”_

It felt as though the bottom of her stomach had dropped out when she heard Aurora’s innocent young voice calling out fearfully from the speakers hidden around the room.

_“Yeah, I see it…”_

**“This was when I realised what an absolute superstar you were going to become,”** Caesar admitted as though it were a precious secret he was daring to share. **“So clever. So brave.”**

A genuine blush stained her cheeks as she watched the camera pan backwards to reveal the wall that the two young Tributes had been climbing in all its terrifying entirety for a long moment before focusing on the section which had caused Aurora so much difficulty.

_“Ok, hold still for a minute,”_ Persephone’s carefully accented voice echoed throughout the room, the screen suddenly dedicated to showing just her face as she obviously puzzled through the options of how she could help her fellow Tribute. _“Let me see what I can do...”_

**“And here we have the fifth favourite moment of this year’s Games,”** Caesar announced as she watched the camera pulling away from her face to show the moment she moved to adopt her new, strangely stretched out position on the rock face. **“As voted for by the people of the Capitol. Persephone, it was truly _remarkable_ demonstration of your skills.” **

**“It’s not how I normally have to use my skills,”** she admitted as a hush fell over the crowd, all eyes locked on the screen where she was shown adopting the odd shape on the rock face so as to act as a stepping stone for Aurora, both of her arms stretched out and one leg at an alarming angle whilst the other was bent at the knee. **“But I’m glad everyone enjoyed it.”**

 

For a while the screen was dedicated to the other Tributes who had survived through to the first night, showing them all bedding down for the night wherever they could before they returned their attention to Persephone. They showed every last detail of their moment of discovery with particular attention being paid to her facial expressions and her large bosom.

 

When it came to showing the moment she had finally gotten around to investigating the contents of the bag she’d managed to grab from the Cornucopia she was unsurprised to realise that the camera angle they’d chosen gave them all a perfect view down her top as she work, carefully extracting a torch, a coil of rope, a blanket, two knives and a bag of…

 

_“Beignets!”_

 

Persephone fought back the tears which built up in her eyes at the sound of her friend’s joy.

_“…I beg your pardon?”_

 

 **“It’s at times like these that we’re reminded how different you’re lives are in the Districts,”** Caesar chuckled, reaching out to pat her knee in a move that was somewhat patronising. **“We all knew what they were the moment we saw them, didn’t we folks?”**

 

The audience, chuckling at her response on the screen, responded with cries of agreement.

_“They're from home…District Three…my mum used to make them for our breakfasts…”_

**“I’d honestly never seen them before, Caesar,”** she responded, ducking her head as though she was embarrassed as per the part she was playing. **“But they were absolutely delicious.”**

 

 _“…a baker’s dozen, then,”_ her voice continued to echo throughout the room as the broadcast continued underneath her words and the audiences indulgent reactions. _“We should be able to make those last us a couple of days at least, despite their size, and we've got water. By then the Careers will no doubt have eliminated some more of the competition and we can look into getting ourselves something more useful in regards to weaponry...”_

_“So much for coming up with a plan in the morning…”_

_“That's not a plan.”_

**“Personally,”** Caesar interjected, acting as though it was a secret even though it was picked up clearly. **“I thought that was a _wonderful_ plan for such an early stage in the Games.”**

**“Oh,”** Persephone sighed, reaching out to squeeze his hand. **“Thank you, Caesar.”**

 

 _“That's a rough outline,”_ Persephone’s voice continued. _“Planning requires specific details and significantly more information about the layout of the Arena than we have at present.”_

_“…makes sense…”_

 

As night-time fell in the playback the screen went completely black.

_“I want to go home…”_

Persephone couldn’t identify the owner of the voice, the pitiful whimper filled with so much fear that it could have been anyone; a boy or a girl, one of the youngest or an older Tribute.

 

The only ones she could be certain it wasn’t was the Career Pack.

 

 **“I’d like to just remind you folks that we haven’t altered the footage in any way; this is genuinely how dark it became within the Arena,”** Caesar pointed out as a timer appeared on the screen, the rapidly changing numbers showing the passage of time and it turned out, much to Persephone’s surprise, that the Arena had only been dark for a total four hours. **“It’s an old trick, altering the length of the days and nights inside the Arena, but it’s always _so effective_ in weeding out the weaklings. Did you realise anything was wrong?” **

**“No, Caesar, I had no idea,”** Persephone answered honestly. **“Although it explains a lot.”**

No wonder she had felt tired no matter how soundly she had managed to sleep in the darkness in the hours they’d gotten to rest had been half of what they actually needed.

 

When the screen came back to life it was split up into twelve equal segments so as the display each surviving Tributes reactions to the lights switching back on, causing the audience to titter brightly as every single face on the enormous screen flinched as one.

 

 **“Such a cruel way to be woken up,”** Caesar chuckled. **“I much prefer the smell of coffee.”**

Another titter from the audience drowned out the initial scream of surprise which escaped Serena Soto, of District Eight, when the screen changed to show her hiding place being discovered by the Career Pack and silence fell as they watched her pitiful attempt to escape.

 

 _“I’ve got this,”_ Jayne announced coldly from the hidden speakers, palming one of her deadly knives and sizing up the poor girl scrambling backwards across the ground. _“Sweet dreams.”_

A simple flick of her wrist and a moment later the sharp blade thudded into Serena’s heart.

 

Her canon sounded almost instantaneously.

_“The Career Pack traditionally make the Cornucopia their base camp,”_ Persephone’s voice sounded out as an image of herself and Aurora appeared on the screen, sat together in their sanctuary. _“And when they go out…hunting…they'll leave behind one, maybe two Tributes to guard the supplies. Not always Careers, either, as they sometimes use other Tributes to do the grunt work until…well…until they're no longer useful at which point they get…yes…”_

Aurora’s audible gulp caused several members of the audience to coo loudly.

_“What I meant is that the best time to attempt anything regarding their supplies it when the Pack is out hunting,”_ she continued as the screen split in two, one half dedicated to herself and Aurora whilst the other showed the Career’s behaving just as she said they would. _“It'll be easier to sneak past one or two Tributes than to attempt to get past the whole Pack.”_

She hadn’t realised that the Career’s had argued about who was going to stay behind.

_“I suppose so…”_ Aurora sighed nervously. _“I just…”_

_“So here's the plan,”_ Persephone announced clearly, a hush falling over the audience as some of them even leaned forwards in anticipation. “ _You'll stay here to guard what we have already, including our hiding spot as I doubt the other Tributes have been anywhere near as fortunate as us, whilst I go and raid the Cornucopia for some of the things we need. Ok?”_

_“…you want to go to the Cornucopia on your own?”_

Persephone couldn’t help but let out a somewhat tearful chuckle at the horrified tone of voice that her young friend had used, accompanying her incredulous expression perfectly.

 

Her past self let out a chuckle at exactly the same moment, _“Not really. I don't particularly want to go there at all but we do need the supplies and, well, I think I'll be able to move faster on my own. No offence, I just mean that if you're with me I'll be worrying about you.”_

_“None taken,”_ Aurora sighed from the screen _. “I understand. I just…I just don't like it…”_

**“It was very brave of you to offer to go alone,”** Caesar commended her as the screen switched to four thin segments; one showed her progress through the tunnels, the one below hers showed Colm and Zoya at the Cornucopia, the third one down showed Aurora carefully using the rope they had found in their backpack to rig an alarm at the entrance of the cave and the bottom segment showed the Career’s moving through a different tunnel. **“I honestly don’t know if I’d have been able to risk taking on the Career Pack on my own.”**

 

 **“It’s amazing what you can do when you have the right sort of motivation, Caesar,”** she commented, smiling warmly at the extravagant host. **“I’m sure others would say the same.”**

**“And now we reach the fourth favourite moment of this year’s Games,”** Caesar announced as she watched her image once again dominate the screen, showing her successfully raiding the supplies before heading towards the tunnel she had come from. **“As voted for by the people of the Capitol. It’s the only moment in the top five where the actions of another were taken into consideration for the vote, although your response is my favourite part.”**

A fearsome scream, deep and heavy with desperation, echoed through the auditorium.

 

Cadmar, the male Tribute from District Eleven, sprinted out of a tunnel on the opposite side of the circular cavern to where she had hurriedly hidden out of sight. He was armed with a machete, just as she remembered, and she watched for the second time as he brought it down on the juncture between Zoya’s neck and shoulders, slicing deep and sending blood spraying high into the air. Her blood-curdling scream sent a shiver down Persephone’s spine.

 

Persephone choked, covering her disgusted grimace with her hand as the audience let out a roaring cheer as the canon signalling the Career’s death sounded, bile filling her mouth. She covered it as best as she could, swallowing the foul liquid down and offering Caesar as smile.

 

They watched as poor Cadmar sprinted back towards the tunnel that he had emerged from, the enraged Careers following him as fast as they physically could, screaming murderously.

 

Once again the screen split into two halves; one dedicated to Persephone raiding the unprotected Cornucopia of everything she could whilst the other showed the Careers chasing down Cadmar. She hadn’t known what they’d done to him in revenge for their fellow Career and, now that she was witnessing it, she wished she had remained oblivious.

 

First they crippled him by driving a spear through the right calf, Mace Carter launching it through the air with his usual deadly precision and sending him crumbling down to the ground with a sharp cry of pain, and then they drove another spear through his shoulder.

 

 _“You’re going to regret trying to be a hero…”_ Arcturus sneered down at the fifteen-year-old, using the point of his sword to slice open his face. _“Did you really think you could beat us?”_

Cadmar, who had been so shy in his interview, snorted loudly.

 

_“Do I look stupid?”_

A surprised giggle burst forth from her lips, startling herself as much as it did everyone else.

 

 **“Sorry,”** Persephone apologised quickly, turning away from the screen to smile sheepishly at the large audience. **“I’ve never seen this before, as you know, and I had absolutely no idea that he was so…so sarcastic with them at the end. I think it’s nothing short of _wonderful_.” **

The audience tittered, apparently amused by her reaction, and Caesar pretended to smack the back of her hand before giving it a squeeze and a shake before directing their attention back to the scene continuing to play on the large screen dominating the wall behind them.

 

 _“Come on, I never had a chance of winning these Games, not when I’m up against people like you,”_ Cadmar laughed bitterly, seemingly ignorant of the blood seeping from his body. _“The best outcome that I can hope for is that people will remember me for what I was able to do.”_

 

 **“And we will, Cadmar,”** Caesar announced. **“We will remember your brave fight.”**

_“I killed one of the Career Tributes,”_ Cadmar continued proudly, offering his soon-to-be killers a blood stained smile. _“How many Tributes from District Eleven can claim that?”_

 

 **“For those of you who are interested the only Tributes from District Eleven who can claim such a feat are our Victors, Chaff and Margot, and Quilon Fox, a Tribute during the 62 nd Hunger Games,” **Caesar informed the audience as an aside, pictures of the three Tributes in question appearing on the left side of the screen. **“Not even our beloved Seeder can claim such a thing. It is a truly impressive achievement and one which will be remembered.”**

Thankfully, if such a word could be used to describe a situation like this, Cadmar had either angered or annoyed the Careers enough that they decided not to draw his death out much longer. Arcturus put an end to the brave boy’s life by driving his sword into Cadmar’s heart.

 

Cadmus died with a pain filled laugh, blood bubbling out of his mouth as his canon sounded.

 

 **“Here it is,”** Caesar all but squealed suddenly. **“My favourite part of this sequence.”**

In a blink of an eye Cadmar’s image was replaced by hers as she hurried along the winding tunnels with her bounty, her steps rather more unsteady than she remembered them being.

 

_“…ave, Cadmar…”_

Caesar, she noticed, mouthed the words along with her past self.

 

_“You had no idea you were helping me but I thank you anyway.”_

**“For those of you who don’t know the traditional salute of _‘Ave’_ can be translated as ‘ _Hail’_ and it is a popular term of remembrance in our dear District One,” **Caesar explained to the camera’s fixed upon them as they sat on the stage. **“I believe it is meant to convey good wishes on either a meeting or, as in this particular instance, a farewell. The final farewell.”**

**“You’re absolutely correct, Caesar,”** Persephone confirmed. **“It just felt right to me.”**

For the next fifteen minutes the large screen was dedicated to the activities of her fellow Tributes, particularly the Career’s as they adjusted to losing one of their own too early, but all too soon the moment she had been dreading since this playback began was upon them.

 

_“Right, that's it – I'm going to bathe.”_

At the time she had been so convinced that she was going to die within the Arena that she hadn’t cared about the fact that she’d paraded her naked body for the entire country to see.

_“You’re going to_ what _?”_

_“Bathe.”_

 

A ripple of excitement coursed through the audience, making her aware of the fact that people were literally leaning forwards out of their seats as her past self began to strip.

_“I'm tired of feeling dirty.”_

_“But…”_

Aurora’s innocence had been endearing at the time but now, watching her friend’s cheeks flush a deep red colour as Persephone stripped off her bra on the screen, it pained her; she had been so naïve…so _young_. She hadn’t deserved a single thing that had happened to her.

_“Persephone! What if they're broadcasting this live?”_

**“This moment, as you’ll remember, was indeed broadcast live,”** Caesar commented, the entire audience voicing their approval. Persephone couldn’t stop herself flushing slightly underneath the makeup they’d plastered on her face. **“And, as you’d expect, was voted into the top five moments although it was pipped for the top spot by a total of five votes.”**

_“I don't care.”_

Persephone wanted to scream at them to turn it off but instead she forced herself to smile.

 

On the screen her image finally removed the last shred of clothing protecting her dignity.

_“It's one thing to fight to the death inside this Arena but there's nothing in the rules which says I have to be filthy dirty whilst doing it,”_ her voice announced firmly. _“Pass me that rag?”_

_“Aren't you…embarrassed?”_

_“Rory, I have been doing quick changes since I was twelve-years-old and you can't wear a bra underneath some of the costumes we have to wear as ballerinas,”_ her voice announced from the screen, prompting Persephone to laugh and gesture down at the ballet inspired dress they had put her in for the day, causing the audience to chuckle along with her. “ _All of my fellow dancers, the boys included, have seen my breasts at some point before now just as I have seen most of theirs. Not the boys, obviously, as they don't have any breasts. Although their dance underwear does leave very little to the imagination, if you get my meaning.”_

_“But…everyone could be looking at you…”_

_“Let them look.”_

 

She was very much aware of the fact that everyone was looking at her yet again; either at her naked body being displayed in graphic detail on the screen or at where she was sat too stiffly, her hands clutched in her lap. And although she tilted her head towards the screen her eyes were fixed on a point above it so that she wouldn’t have to watch herself bathe.

 

 _“After all, the Capitol were the ones who gave me my new breasts;”_ her voice rang out amidst the sounds of running water. _“It's only fair that they get to see them at least once.”_

She listened, still refusing to watch, as she received her first gift from a sponsor.

_“Soap!”_

_“Percy, you are…one of a kind,”_ Aurora’s sweet voice, broken up by giggles, washed over her. _“Most Tributes would be upset to receive such a ‘useless’ gift from a Sponsor; they'd want weapons or food or medicine. And yet here you are literally squealing about soap.”_

_“I don't need weapons or food or medicine right now,”_ her past self-responded with a bright giggle of her own. _“What I do need is soap; the fact that it's scented is an added bonus.”_

The Capitol audience made their approval of her somewhat glib response.

 

 **“I think some of our Capitol audience were surprised to see that you used the same technique as us when wrapping your wet hair up in a towel,”** Caesar announced cheerfully, drawing her attention back to the screen at last where the image of her with her hair up in a towel turban, the larger towel wrapped around her body. A chuckle of agreement spread around the room, prompting Persephone to offer them a smile. **“Did you learn that here?”**

**“No,”** she corrected him. **“One of the older girls at the Academy taught me years ago.”**

 

For a short while after that the screen was dedicated to showing the other Tributes still “active” at this point in the Games and the playback only returned to their hidden cave to show the moment Persephone had received her second parachute the following morning.

 

_“What have they sent this time?”_

**“Rumour has it that this particular gift was ordered by someone within the Presidential Mansion,”** Caesar announced, causing the audience to react with overly dramatic gasps of shock and cries of approval. A close up of the gift in question was shown. **“Although we have yet to have confirmation regarding this. What do you think of that, Persephone?”**

**“I’m grateful to whoever took the time to send me any of the gifts I received,”** Persephone responded diplomatically before forcing herself to giggle in accordance with the character she had created for herself. **“Although if the gift _did_ come from President Snow…well…I only wish I’d managed to hold onto it for longer than I did. After all, how many people can claim to have received a gift, even if it was just a hairbrush, from the President himself?” **

Caesar laughed loudly, smiling broadly so as to show off his too perfect teeth.

_“Why am I not surprised?”_

_“Because we have a sponsor who agrees that we should look our best no matter what the situation is?  It's alright for the boys; they look the same no matter what happens to them. But when you've got long hair like we do it takes careful maintenance or it looks like a birds nest, or worse. I know some Tributes are happy to leave their hair alone for the entire duration of the Games but if I have a braid in my hair I'd prefer it to look nice and neat.”_

**“I _cannot tell you_ how refreshing it was to have a Tribute who shared our opinion about how important a person’s appearance is at all times,” ** Caesar informed her, patting her knee as the audience voiced their agreement. One woman even appeared to be crying with joy, the glitter lining her eyes dripping down her face. **“You were right; some of the female Tributes in the past have emerged from the Games with hair so bad it had to be cut off.”**

**“I can believe that, Caesar.”**

Oh, how she was starting to hate the character she would have to live as from now on.

_“Want me to do yours, Rory?”_

_“…mum always used to brush my hair before school…”_

Persephone’s stomach clenched once more as the audience responded to her friend’s soft statement with loud “aww’s” as though they were watching a sweet scene from a movie rather than a twelve-year-old girl talking about the mother she’d never get to see again.

_“…and she'd braid it on Sunday's, our day of rest…”_

_“…how do you feel about two Dutch braids which turn into fishtail braids?”_

_“Considering I don't know what either of those are I don't really have an opinion either way.”_

This statement caused the audience to titter, several of them showing off their hair in the most dramatic fashion they could so as to draw attention to their own copies of the braids.

 

 **“Did you know that you are singlehandedly responsible for bringing fishtail braids back into fashion?”** Caesar enquired brightly, smiling as Persephone responded with an overly dramatic exclamation of surprised delight. **“Did you learn to braid hair at the Academy?”**

**“I did,”** she confirmed. **“Most girls in the Districts can do a traditional three strand braid or a French braid because it keeps their hair neat and out of the way but as a ballerina we had to be able to turn our hair into works of art. Mostly it was different types of buns but when we were out and about in the town we had to look out best to, hence the braids.”**

_“My mum could only do normal or French braids.”_

_“A Dutch braid is the same as a French braid, really, only you pass the hair under instead of over,”_ Persephone explained _. “And a fishtail braid…ends up looking sort of like a fishtail…”_

_“Go on, then. I trust your judgement.”_

 

Rather than the screen returning to the Careers as she had expected it to, given that they were seemingly the second most interesting thing this year, it switched from Persephone carefully braiding Aurora’s hair to Falkon Myers, the eighteen-year-old from District Six.

 

Several of the Capitol women in the audience let out sounds of distress and Persephone could guess why; Falkon was by far the most handsome of the male Tributes who had “competed” in the 72nd Hunger Games. He was tall, well-built but not overly muscular like the Careers, had a square jaw, dimples in both of his cheeks and a pair of warm brown eyes. His hair, which she remembered being a fraction too long at his Reaping, had been carefully cut to fall in slightly wavy curtains around his face, the tips just long enough to skim his ears.

 

Persephone recalled hearing his screams as he’d been killed but hadn’t realised just how disturbing his death had actually been. Rather than fall Victim to the Careers as so many of the other Tributes had he had fallen victim to the Gamemakers and their need to make the 72nd Hunger Games even more exciting and memorable than the previous years had been.

 

Falkon Myers had been crushed to death when the walls of the cavern he’d been in had suddenly began to close in at such a speed that it had been impossible for him to escape.

 

The sound of his body being flattened, literally, was more than Persephone could handle and her mask slipped long enough for her to turn away from the screen in disgust, one hand moving up to cover her mouth as she gagged. Caesar quickly took hold of her other hand.

 

 **“I’m sorry if this is too graphic for your delicate sensibilities, Persephone,”** he apologised, seemingly sincere. Swallowing she offered him a tight smile as she lowered her hand. **“His death deserves to be remembered, as unpleasant as it was. I’m sure you understand.”**

**“I do, Caesar,”** she agreed softly. **“I just hadn’t imagined it would be so…”**

**“None of us did, my dear,”** Caesar commiserated before switching back to his perky host persona, reading out what was obviously a pre-arranged statement. **“But then again the most unexpected deaths are always the most thrilling to watch, aren’t they, everyone?”**

The crowd cheered, actually _cheered_ , in agreement.

 

It made Persephone want to gag all over again but she managed to hold onto her mask.

 

Another night passed within the blink of an eye on the screen, all of the remaining Tributes bedding down in the darkness rather than trying to navigate the confusing tunnels, and then come morning they were treated to a traditional Career hunt. They’d left Colm behind to guard the supplies, despite his protestations as he’d been left behind more than any of the others, and set off in search of their next victim. For a while nothing happened and Caesar was left to comment on the various tracking techniques that they three Career’s had used.

 

And then along came Hadley Gibson, the fourteen-year-old female Tribute from District Seven, who had made the mistake of turning left when she should have turned right as she meandered through the Arena and had found herself facing Arcturus, Mace and Jayne.

 

She had somehow managed to arm herself with a pair of axes, one significantly larger than the other, and the young girl showed more courage than anyone could have been expecting when this first aired by discarding the bag she was carrying in favour of facing off with them.

 

**“You think you can take us, little girl?”**

**“I think I can try,”** Hadley responded to Mace’s sneer, spinning the smaller of the two axes in a way that clearly showed she knew how to handle them. **“And don’t call me _little girl_.” **

**“Finally,”** Arcturus’ cold laughter fell over the silent audience. **“Someone worth fighting.”**

Against one of them Hadley could probably have held out long enough to strike a blow, possibly even a fatal one, but against all three of the skilled Careers she never had a chance.

 

They exchanged blows, Hadley surprising everyone by managing to block the first series of attacks as well as slicing open the back of Jayne’s hand, but all too soon the fourteen-year-old was overwhelmed and Mace was able to drive the point of his spear into her stomach.

 

It was a killing blow, whether they followed it up with another or left her to bleed out, but she didn’t give up straight away, she caught Arcturus in the thigh with her smaller axe which caused him to stumble away with a sharp hiss. Jayne yelped as the district Seven native was able to clip her jaw with the blade of her other axe, her tan skin splitting open in a long gash.

 

 **“I’ve had enough of this…”** Mace growled, yanking the tip of his spear from her stomach with enough force to send a spurt of blood arcing through the air as he spun the spear in an overly dramatic manoeuvre before driving the sharp point into her heart. **“Nice try, Seven.”**

Her cannon sounded as the camera switched to show a close up of her wide eyes, capturing the moment the life fled her body, her dark pupils ballooning in size until the blue of her eyes was almost completely hidden. It was horrific and was made even more so when the audience burst into a round of applause in response to the teenagers unnecessary death.

 

Unsurprisingly there was significantly less applause when they re-broadcast the death of Pamelyn Lowe, the ever so frail looking twelve-year-old from District Ten, who had been killed a couple of hours after Hadley. She hadn’t even tried to escape when the Careers had come upon her, sobbing helplessly for her mother as Arcturus skewered her with his sword.

 

Aurora’s scream, accompanied by the sound of rushing water, almost sent Persephone into a panic as she recalled the scenes which they were about to witness. Her heart thudded in her chest, her stomach clenching painfully whilst tears built up in the corners of her eyes as she forced herself to watch herself and Aurora struggling to escape their flooding sanctuary.

 

 **“I was _so_ worried for you, Persephone,” **Caesar announced theatrically, giving her hand a squeeze as they watched her guide the struggling Aurora along the narrow ledge. **“And now we reach the third favourite moment of this year’s Games as voted for by the people of the Capitol. Persephone, we all understand completely if you cannot watch this particular moment and won’t think any less of you. It must have been so hard to lose your friend.”**

**“It was,”** she responded softly. **“Thank you all for being so understanding.”**

Turning away from the screen meant that she didn’t have to watch the last few moments of her friends life play out for their amusement but, unfortunately, she could still hear them.

 

_“Come on, we can't stay here.”_

Footsteps, squelching loudly thanks to the water in their boots, sounded.

_“We need to find somewhere safe to hide and figure out how to get some more supplies.”_

_“O-Ok…”_

More footsteps, clear and strong.

 

The Careers.

_“I told you I was going to be the one to kill you, Persephone. Slowly and painfully.”_

_“I never doubted that fact, Arcturus.”_

Had she really sounded so brave, so confident?

 

She had felt truly and utterly terrified.

_“However, please excuse me if I don't make it too easy for you...”_

More footsteps, faster this time and mixture of the two; squelch, thud, squelch, thud…

_“She's mine! Nobody touches that bitch but me!”_

She’d known it was coming, her own memory of this moment as clear as day in her mind, and yet her whole body juddered as she listened to Mace grunting as he launched his spear through the air, as she heard Aurora’s startled cry as the blade punched its way through her.

 

Her friend’s canon sounded even as her past self let out an animalistic scream of pure grief.

 

 **“It’s all over now, my dear,”** Caesar murmured gently. **“You can look back now.”**

She didn’t want to.

 

She wanted to cover her eyes and ears and ignore what was going on around her.

 

 **“Thank you, Caesar,”** she murmured instead, turning in her seat so that she could offer him a small smile before looking back at the screen which was split in two, the left half showing herself as she fled the scene, the right showing the Career’s celebrating their latest kill as they continued to give chase. **“Thank you all for understanding why I couldn’t watch that.”**

A murmur of what passed for sympathy within the Capitol spread through the audience.

 

**“Did you know where you were going?”**

**“No, Caesar, I just knew that if I wanted to live another day that I needed to get as far away from the Career’s as possible,”** she found herself answering honestly as the playback followed her as she hurried down a curved tunnel. **“I wouldn’t have stood a chance against all four of them at that moment. I knew that I needed to wait until they turned on each other or, as it happened, I was in a position where the advantage was mine, not theirs.”**

**“Indeed.”**

Up on the screen her past self skidded to a halt in front of the rickety rope bridge which had featured in most of her nightmares, both sleeping and waking, since the Games had ended.

 

**“What were you thinking right at this moment?”**

**“I was thinking that the rope bridge looked utterly terrifying and that the Careers would undoubtedly assume that I, a _pathetic little dancer_ , would take the safer option,” **she answered, pointing out the tunnel entrance just as her past self announced, _“Fine – rope bridge of doom it is.”_ causing the audience to dissolve into raucous laughter. **“I don’t know if the bridge was actually as unsafe as it looked but, at the time, it looked truly terrifying.”**

Silence fell once more as they watched her past self traverse the swaying rope bridge.

_“Don't look down. Don't you dare look down,”_ her trembling voice echoed around the silent room as she faltered ever so slightly. “ _Keep going, Persephone. Can't stop here. Keep going.”_

**“And this is where I figured out that I am actually terrified of heights,”** she announced, much to the audience’s amusement, as they watched her past self freeze in the centre of the bridge, staring down at her feet and the drop below. **“But in fairness it was very high…”**

_“Keep going. Freak out later; keep going now.”_

**“And did you?”** Caesar enquired. **“Freak out later, I mean.”**

**“I think I still am, Caesar,”** she chuckled, acting more embarrassed than she was. **“I don’t think I’ll be going near any of the windows in your glorious buildings for a little while.”**

Another round of laughter followed her admission; an admission which was partly true, the height of some of the Capitol’s buildings genuinely did affect her now, but was mostly a carefully crafted statement in keeping with the persona she had adopted to please them all.

 

_“Hmm…”_

Caesar laughed brightly, clapping his hands together as he gushed brightly,

**“Oh, I loved it when you did this!”**

_“Eeny-meeny-miny-mo, catch a tiger by the toe, if it wriggles let it go, eeny-meeny-miny-mo, you are out so out you must go,”_ her past self sang childishly as she deliberated between two tunnels which would take her away from the threat of the Cornucopia. “ _Ok, left it is…”_

They watched as she found her hiding place in the cavern of stalagmites and stalactites, tucking her body into the outcropping of rock until she was out of sight of all bar one of the camera’s which had been hidden inside the little pocket and gave a rather unflattering angle of her face which made the moment she broke down and began sobbing look even worse.

_“I’m sorry, Aurora…I’m so sorry…”_

 

 **“At least you can comfort yourself with the knowledge that darling Aurora will never be forgotten,”** Caesar murmured sympathetically, the audience voicing their own agreement. Persephone offered them a tight smile; she didn’t find it comforting at all that they would recall her name after it was their Hunger Games that ended her life. **“Now, at this point in the Games we had finally reached the _final five,_ as we like to call them; Colm Lightfoot, Mace Carter, Jayne Dunstan, Arcturus Ward and yourself. A somewhat typical result, all of you being from the Career District’s, and it was at this point that your odds of winning began to improve, my dear. At this point your odds were better than Colm’s and Jayne’s. Did you know that by the final day that _you_ were the favourite to win and not Arcturus?” **

**“No, I had no idea, Caesar,”** she responded softly, genuinely surprised by this fact as the uneventful days between Aurora’s death and her next confrontation with the Career’s played out on the screen behind them. **“I assumed that I stayed the underdog throughout.”**

**“Oh, no, my dear,”** Caesar assured her. **“We Capitolites can spot a winner, that’s for sure.”**

They watched as she finally emerged from her hiding place on the tenth day of the Games in search of sustenance, her movements unnaturally stilted after having been still for so long.

 

_“Well, then, I guess there's only one thing for it…”_

The cracks and pops which had accompanied her stretches were a lot more audible than she had realised at the time, several members of the audience jumping and hissing in sympathy.

 

_“Oh, that's better…”_

They watched as she arrived at the cavern with the ridiculously low ceiling, the audience already beginning to lean forwards in their seats in anticipation of the action yet to come.

 

_“…I really hope there's no creepy crawlers in here…”_

**“This particular moment, and that which follows it, didn’t quite make it into the Top Five Moments of this year’s Hunger Games,”** Caesar announced. **“It came in at number six.”**

A metallic clunking sound drew her attention back to the screen.

 

It was the moment that they already low ceiling had begun to lower inch by dangerous inch, her scream little more than a frantic shriek as she scrambled towards the exit of the cavern.

 

_“No, no, no, no…This is not how I die! This is not how I die!”_

The audience let out an overly dramatic gasp as the ceiling lowered for a second time, this time low enough to smack the back of her head, prompting to enter into a mad scramble to make it to the nearest tunnel entrance moments before the ceiling dropped one last time.

 

_“That was…that was way too close…”_

 

Apparently she’d looked worse than she’d thought, following her desperate movements across the uneven cavern floor, and the camera’s had, of course, focused on the scratches to her chest area and the points where the fabric of her t-shirt had torn to reveal her bra.

 

_“Ow…perhaps they should have waited to improve my breasts until after the Games…”_

She ducked her head, pretending to be embarrassed, before offering the audience as sheepish a smile as she could conjure up as she addressed the unusually quiet audience.

 

 **“I must apologise if I accidently implied that I wasn’t grateful for the improvements that were given to me,”** she spoke clearly, catching sight of Cashmere nodding her head ever so slightly, her brother offering her an approving smile from his seat beside her. **“At the time I was only thinking of the fact that I probably wouldn’t have scraped my chest quite so badly if I had still possessed my natural breasts as they were quite a bit, well, smaller.”**

**“Oh, we understand that you weren’t being ungrateful about our gifts to you,”** Caesar reassured her, several members of the audience voicing their own agreement. **“I’m truly glad that they were able to heal those scratches for you as they looked rather painful.”**

The audience tittered as her screen self almost set off for the Cornucopia without her knife, something that she only vaguely remembered doing at the time, and then gasped loudly as before she could reach her destination and the supplies she needed the Careers found her.

 

“Hey!”

 

“Get her!”

 

 **“Persephone, there’s something I’ve wanted to ask you about this moment,”** Caesar began as they all watched her sprinting away from the Careers, narrowly avowing Colm’s trident after the Career had launched it towards her. **“Did you know where you were going? I mean, did you plan to lead the Career’s to the rope bridge so that you could kill them?”**

**“No,”** Persephone admitted with a soft chuckle, watching the moment that she’d turned an unexpected fall into a controlled dive and in doing so had avoided Jayne’s spear. **“I had absolutely no idea where I was going. Everything looked the same inside the Arena. It was by chance that I was able to find my way back to a cavern that gave me the advantage.”**

_“Give up now, bitch! You know you can’t outrun us!”_

Seeing how close their knives, thrown with a telling amount of accuracy, had come to killing her was absolutely terrifying; a couple of inches to the left and the deep cut on her left arm would have been a knife buried in her back, possibly with enough force to pierce her heart.

_“Probably not but I’m still going to try!”_

**“How did you even come up with such a brilliant idea?”**

**“I don’t know, Caesar,”** she responded as she watched her past self pausing in the centre of the rope bridge, looking thoughtful for a moment before turning back to face her pursuers. **“It just came to me. At the time I thought it would either work like a charm or kill us all.”**

**“Well, I’m sure I’m not the only one who was pleased with the outcome.”**

_“I’m not afraid of you!”_

_“Really? Then why did you run away from us? Sure seemed like you were afraid…_

She was unsurprised when the screen split in two; the top half showing the all five of the Tributes in the cavern whilst the bottom half showed her free hand as she searched for a loose piece of rope and, upon finding one, set about wrapping it tightly around her wrist.

 

_“That wasn’t fear. That was just survival instinct. Four Careers against a ballerina?”_

Some of the audience chuckled alongside her past self on the screen.

_“I know what the odds are of me surviving that. But that doesn’t mean I’m afraid of you; it just means that I’ve got enough common sense to know when to run.”_

_“Then why aren’t you running now?”_

Caesar actually wiggled in his seat like an excited child when Colm led the four Careers out onto the bridge, stalking towards her threateningly even as the bridge rocked unsteadily.

 

_“…because I don’t need to run anymore. You do.”_

Out of the corner of her eyes she noticed that Caesar, along with several members of the audience, had mouthed the words along with her past self and were now cheering loudly as the close up of her hand showed her frantically sawing at the rope until it finally gave way.

 

_“Hey! What are you doing?!”_

The lower part of the screen followed her hand as she moved to cut the handrail on the side she was holding on to, making sure to cut on the far side of where she was clutching tightly.

 

_“No! Stop!”_

The second handrail snapped and the four Careers were shown dropping down to clutch at the planks of wood beneath her feet as she began to attack one of the thicker pieces of rope which had been used to support the wooden planks, sawing at it until it finally broke apart.

 

A single wide shot was used to replay the moment that the final rope snapped under the strain, five distinct screams sounding as the two sides plummeted downwards, three of which cut off as they struck the faces of the cliff but the final two continued as Colm and Jayne lost their grips on the rope bridge and plummeted down towards the violent river.

 

The screen split into three segments, each one dedicated the surviving Tributes; Arcturus had been the last one to step onto the bridge and had been able to throw himself towards the cliff face, managing to grab hold of the edge so that he didn’t drop too far at all and was easily able to pull himself to safety. Mace had managed to keep hold of the wooden slats of the bridge, his breath coming in sharp pants as he began to climb up the bridge like a ladder.

 

A single canon sounded, echoing loudly, and then a long moment later a second followed.

 

_“…you fucking bitch…just you wait…I’ll get you…”_

The section showing Persephone hanging from her half of the rope bridge shrank into the top left corner of the screen so that the rest of the last screen could be dedicated to the moment Arcturus turned on his fellow Career, thrusting his sword through the other boys chest just when he’d reached the top of the rope bridge and had been about to climb off.

 

_“…fucking…bastard…”_

**“I never did care for that boy,”** Caesar admitted as Arcturus mirthless chuckle poured from the hidden speakers, his words taking her by surprise. Some of the audience voiced their own agreement. **“No sense of honour. He should have allowed Mace to defend himself.”**

A third canon sounded as Mace’s body was shown falling down towards the river.

 

 _“_ _It's just you and me now, bitch.”_

Her image grew in size once more to take up one half of the screen as she muttered,

 

_“Yes, I’m very much aware of that fact, Arcturus. Thank you so much...”_

 

_“I said it’s just you and me now, bitch!”_

 

_“Yes, Arcturus, I heard you. No need to state the obvious.”_

Caesar roared with laughter along with most of the audience, clapping his hands together.

 

_“I’m going to kill you. Slowly. Painfully. And I’m going to enjoy it…”_

_“You know, Arcturus, I don’t doubt that for a moment given that you’re a complete and utter psychopath. But, please, excuse me if I don’t roll over and make it easy for you.”_

She hadn’t realised just how angry her words had made him, given that she had been busy running away from him at the time, but his expression had been one of undiluted hatred.

 

 **“And now, at long last, ladies and gentlemen, we come to the climax of this year’s Hunger Games which, coincidently but not unsurprisingly, was voted in as the favourite moment of the entire Games,”** Caesar announced as the final three uneventful days passed by within a matter of seconds on the big screen as nothing had happened. **“No doubt most of you remember that the last time the Hunger Games came down to two Tributes from the same District our beloved Ilythia emerged victorious over her partner from District Four.”**

A thunderous sound emerged from speakers as both she and Arcturus were shown.

 

Their reactions were almost identical.

 

_“What the…?”_

 

They watched as the two Tributes from District One were herded towards the Cornucopia by the Gamemakers who had chosen to literally collapse the tunnels from the outside in giving the two of them no choice but to run the only direction left open to them; inwards.

 

Her exhaustion, malnutrition and dehydration were obvious.

 

Arcturus, not that she had noticed at the time, wasn’t much better.

 

It was a close run thing for both of them, Persephone stumbling out into the Cornucopia with none of her usual grace mere moments before the last section of the tunnel collapsed.

_“I've been waiting for you, bitch.”_

A shudder ran down her spine at hearing those hate filled words once again.

_“Time to die...”_

 

She couldn’t watch the fight.

 

She _couldn’t_ …

 

So, as before, she fixed her gaze upon the very edge of the screen so that she gave the appearance of watching the action taking place and instead merely listened to the replay of the moment she literally had to fight for her life against a vastly superior opponent.

 

_“You're just delaying the inevitable, bitch!”_

 

_“Oh, I know that. And my name is Persephone!”_

 

It took every inch of control she had not to flinch with each metallic clang she heard.

 

_“No one will care what your name is a week from now.”_

**“How wrong he was…”**

_“You'll be just another failed Tribute…”_

A moment later and Arcturus’ scream of pain washed over her senses.

 

Within seconds, however, her own whimper of pain sounded followed soon after by the sound of her back hitting the ground; she’d tripped over something on the ground, she recalled, after becoming somewhat distracted from the pain of him stabbing her in the side.

 

_“…you…fucking…bitch…”_

 

Arcturus grunted in pain, removing her spear from his thigh, she recalled.

 

There was a whooshing sound, the spear being spun around, and then Persephone’s past self let out a bone chilling scream; Arcturus had just driven the spear through her stomach.

 

Arcturus laughed.

 

She felt sick, her numerous wounds throbbing despite the fact that they were fully healed.

 

Another scream, hers of course, sounded as Arcturus drove his sword through her chest.

 

_“I told you I'd kill you slowly…and painfully…”_

Caesar reached out to squeeze her hand as her whimpers of pain flooded out of the hidden speakers, his thumb stroking back and forth in a genuinely comforting and soothing manner.

 

**“He cannot hurt you any more, my dear.”**

**“I know, Caesar,”** she responded, turning to smile at him thankfully as she conjured up the right thing to say, keeping her response in character whilst also saying what she felt. **“I just hate that he was able to put me in such a…such a humiliating position. I didn’t mind the idea of dying with…well…honour but what he put me through wasn’t at all honourable.”**

**“Indeed it wasn’t,”** Caesar agreed. **“You don’t need to watch this part, my dear.”**

**“Thank you.”**

The only problem with being permitted to turn away from the screen was that it left her watching the audience’s reactions to the action taking place on the screen, that she saw the way some of them looked excited when he forced himself between her legs, driving a knife through her right wrist into the ground after she had attempted to push him off of her body.

 

As much as Caesar seemed to sympathise with her others would have been happy to see what Arcturus had planned to do to her had she not been able to keep her wits about her.

The slap of flesh on flesh sounded; yes, she had slapped his face, she recalled.

 

It was after that act that he had driven a second knife through the palm of her left hand.

 

_“This is a good look for you, bitch.”_

Her stomach clenched.

 

_“Completely at my mercy…but let's get these pesky clothes out of the way, shall we?”_

 

A soft murmur spread through the audience in reaction to the scene taking place on the big screen, no doubt in response to Arcturus cutting away the fabric covering her ample bosom.

 

 **“I do believe we can see the moment you realised what you had to do to save yourself,”** Caesar announced, still holding her hand tightly in his own. **“Yes, there you go. That must have hurt so much, given that he forced that blade all the way through, to pull it free.”**

**“It did hurt, Caesar,”** she confirmed. **“A great deal. But it had to be done.”**

**“Indeed it did. Indeed it did.”**

A gasp swept through the room as they watched moment she had pulled the knife free, bringing the hilt up to her mouth so as to use her teeth to withdraw it from her flesh and then, with a sickening squelching sound Persephone Waters won the 72nd Hunger Games.

 

Caesar led the audience in a rousing cheer as the final canon of the Games sounded.

 

 ** _“Ladies and Gentlemen, may I present the winner of the 72nd Annual Hunger Games!”_** Claudius Templesmith’s voice announced just as it had done then. _**“Persephone Waters!”**_

****

Following the announcement the screen went blank for a moment before the image they had used to announce her Tribute score back before she’d entered the Arena appeared with the words ‘ _Congratulations, Persephone’_ above in and _‘Victor of the 62 nd Hunger Games’ _below it, prompting the audience to launch themselves to their feet in a standing ovation.

 

 **“Wasn’t she wonderful?”** Caesar enquired, joining them in their vigorous applause which caused her to blush, ducking her head with what she hoped was a bashful smile. **“Wasn’t she _wonderful_? I do declare there has never been a Games like these in all my years.” **

A roar of approval and agreement met his statement.

 

 **“And now, the moment we have all been waiting for,”** Caesar announced gleefully as he helped her rise gracefully to her feet. **“It’s time for you to make your way to the _Avenue of the Tributes,_ my dear, where you will be crowned our Victor by President Snow himself.” **

Persephone carefully crafted her expression into one of excitement as she was led from the stage amidst the continuing applause, offering the audience a wave with her downstage hand just before she disappeared from sight at which point they began rushing her along the now familiar corridors until she was handed over to a small group of Peacekeepers in their Capitol Uniforms, significantly less threatening than those they wore in the Districts, who set about transporting her to the _Avenue of the Tributes_ via a stylish black limousine.

 

Once they arrived their destination Persephone was lead to a rather unimpressive lift, one that was clearly only used by members of staff and Avoxes, which propelled them up to the top floor at such a rate that it felt as though the bottom had dropped out of her stomach.

 

“Deep breath,” one of the Peacekeepers instructed her as the doors opened. “It’ll help.”

 

“Thank you,” she responded automatically even as her mind reeled at a Peacekeeper, of all people, choosing to give her what was in fact a rather kind piece of advice. “I wasn’t expec–”

 

“Enough talking, now,” the same Peacekeeper murmured as they led her out onto the lavishly decorated balcony from which President Snow and his cabinet members watched the Tribute Parade every year. “I doubt we need to remind you to watch your manners…”

 

She shook her head, her hands trembling nervously as they gestured for her to take a seat on the ridiculous gold thrown amidst the cheering of the utterly enormous crowd below.

 

Mere seconds after the Peacekeepers had withdrawn from view a fanfare sounded loudly, signalling the arrival of President Snow, and she rose to her feet automatically just as he stepped out of what must be the main lift. He smiled across at her, his smile reminding her of Arcturus’, waving his hand dismissively as he moved to the podium from which he would give his speech and she took this as him giving her permission to take her seat once more.

 

She did so, smoothing her hands over her skirt as he began his pre-prepared speech.

 

It was strange; he was standing so close to her and yet because of the wind and the angle of the speakers and the continuous roar of the crowd she couldn’t hear a word he was saying.

 

Cashmere and Gloss arrived by the main lift mid-speech, hurrying to take their own seats on a couple of rather plain chairs to the far side of the balcony and, despite the fact that her Mentors hadn’t really helped her all that much, she felt much better for having them there.

 

Eventually the moment came for her to be crowned, her only clue the fact that President Snow waved for the sole Avox present on the balcony to bring the cushion bearing the gold circlet forwards, and she hurriedly rose to her feet as he turned around to face her properly.

 

“Congratulations, Miss Waters,” he murmured, his voice sending an unpleasant shiver down her spine as he plucked the crown from the cushion and placed it upon her head, one of his fingers stroking down her face. “I look forward to seeing much more of you in the future." 

 

Something about the way he said those innocent enough words filled her with dread but in that moment she drew upon all of her acting experience in order to respond as she was expected to, offering him a charming smile and a delicate curtsey as she thanked him softly.

 

In that moment she thought that her trials were over.

 

If only she could have known that the true Games were only just beginning…

 

**~ THE END ~**

 

 **A/N** This has taken me SO LONG to write because of the format I STUPIDLY decided to go with but by the time I thought up a different way to do it I was too far along to start over. I have two more stories planned out in this series with a potential fourth if I can muster the energy but I have no idea how long they’ll take me considering how many projects I currently have on the go. Anyway I hope you’ve enjoyed this story. Comments & Suggestions welcome. X


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